


Shake On It

by IAmTheGrayArea



Category: Derek - Fandom, Sterek - Fandom, Stiles - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheGrayArea/pseuds/IAmTheGrayArea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has a proposition for Stiles. Either he agrees to be his mating partner or Derek won't help Scott with his transition from human to werewolf. Stiles, being the freaking awesome best friend that he is, agrees to do it... but on his terms only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proposition

It was a Thursday night and again Stiles found himself alone in his room. He had been ditched by his ungrateful best buddy to make out with Allison… aka the most perfect entity to walk the Earth. In Scott's opinion, of course.

 _Alright_ , he was happy for his best friend. Together they had trudged through the dregs of high school and finally one of them was getting to the bright side. Life was definitely looking good for Scott and vicariously, it was also looking good for Stiles. No longer would he be Scarlet Nerded anymore, but recognized as the best friend of the captain of the lacrosse team. Not. Too. Shabby.

Even if it meant spending some evening mulling over how much his personal life still sucked. If only Lydia would come around. That would make these nights go a hell of a lot faster.

He ran his ran his hand over his head, tapping his fingers impatiently against his desk. He stared at his computer screen, willing himself to think of an interesting topic to research or look up. He had read most werewolf lore, half of which was not even true. A point which Derek always gladly pointed out to him.

 _Thanks_.

He sighed heavily, wondering briefly what his dad was doing.

"I hope your night is more exciting dad," he mumbled to himself, tempted to go find him and tag along for the rest of the night.

"Anything's gotta be more exciting than this riveting… _what the hell_?" he interrupted himself as he heard a loud thump on the outside of his window.

He cautiously stood from his chair, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open – classic Stiles.

"Hello?" he said and then felt a little stupid. "Anyone there?" He took another step.

He saw nothing but black outside. He squinted his eyes, coming right up to the glass.

Yep, just black. Just black and… FREAKIN' DEREK HALE!

Out of nowhere, Derek flung himself up against the window, staring intently into the room.

"What the FUCK!" Stiles yelled, whipping back across his room. " _How are you everywhere_?" he finished, already making his way back to open the window.

Once open he slammed his palms down against the wood. "What the hell, Derek?"

Derek had managed to perch himself against the slight edge of the window frame, using one arm to keep his body in place. It was impressive, certainly. Not humanly possible, absolutely.

"Busy?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Stiles said immediately, anger clear in his voice. He nodded his head yes, but then quickly changed directions. "No," he admitted.

"Good. Can I come in, then?"

"Sure." Stiles moved aside. "Why not?"

With effortless grace Derek swung into the room, landing quietly. His eyes quickly scanned the area before landing back on Stiles.

Stiles crossed his arms, waiting expectantly. After a moment of silence he raised his eyebrows. "Need something?"

"Yes," Derek said.

Stiles waited another couple of seconds, leaning forward more and more as the time passed. "Which is?"

"It is a proposition of sorts," Derek said.

"Okay," Stiles said, just happy to be finally getting somewhere with this conversation. "Hit me."

"You've researched werewolf lore, yes?" Derek asked.

"I'm no expert, but I'm confident that I'm more knowledgeable than the average person, yes," Stiles answered.

"In your research you read about blood lust right?" Derek asked.

"Yeah."

"Did you happen upon…" He dropped his eyes to the floor.

Uh oh, this again. "Happen upon what?" Stiles urged.

"Lust," Derek said.

Stiles opened his mouth, but was confused. "I read a lot about blood lust. When it peaks, why it peaks…"

"No," Derek said. "Not _blood_ lust."

It was Stiles' turn to be speechless.

"I'm talking," Derek continued. "About sexual lust."

"Sexu…" Stiles started, but clumsily trailed off. He inhaled deeply, feeling heat rise into his face. Talking about sex didn't normally get him flustered. But talking about sex with Derek staring unyieldingly into his soul was another story. "Why," he began, voice high. "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm about to be raped?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm just asking a question."

"Uh," Stiles thought back to his research. "No, I can't recall anything."

"There are quite a few secrets that werewolves—" Derek began.

" _And_ he's going to elaborate," Stiles said, interrupting him.

" _There are quite a few secrets_ ," Derek started again. "That werewolves have been able to keep hidden from humans."

"I feel like this conversation," Stiles said, motioning quickly between the two of them. "Is more appropriate for you and Scott."

With this Derek leveled Stiles with a fiery glare.

"Shutting up," Stiles said, raising both hands.

"One such secret," Derek said. "Is werewolf heat."

"Werewolf heat," Stiles repeated quietly.

"Yes, we go through heat. A time period in which it is extremely difficult to resist our sexual urges."

"Sexual urges," Stiles repeated.

"Yes," Derek answered.

For once Stiles was hoping for Derek to continue, but he didn't. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not gonna like where this is heading?"

"I pick you, Stiles," Derek said.

Stiles froze, eyes widening. " _What_?"

And after a moment of silence, Stiles spazed a little. "What?"

"I pick you to relieve my sexual urges," Derek said.

Stiles couldn't help but look slightly horrified. "I hope this is a joke," he said, but even his voice betrayed the statement, knowing full well that this werewolf didn't _joke_. "Okay, back to the part about me getting raped… are you gonna rape me?" he asked, swallowing hard.

"No," Derek said, grimacing slightly. "Everything that will come to fruition will be consensual."

"Okay," Stiles said, liking the sound of that. He continued to nod his head as his thoughts wondered. After a moment he noticed the silence that had settled between them. He made eye contact with Derek and felt a quick surge of panic. "Right now?" he asked, terrified of the answer.

"No," Derek said. "Not right now. I am not currently in heat."

"Oh, thank God," Stiles said, looking up towards the sky.

"But soon," Derek said.

"How soon is soon?" Stiles asked.

"I believe within the next couple of weeks," Derek said.

"How specific."

"That's as close as I can guess," Derek said.

"...Fantastic," Stiles said, collapsing into his computer chair. "Have a seat if you wish," he motioned to his bed.

Derek didn't move.

"Alright, or _not_ ," Stiles said. He spun in his chair a couple times, stopping suddenly. "This is crazy," he said, laughing. But not in a sincere way, in an 'I'm going crazy' type of way. "Why me?" he asked, sounding desperate. "Why not… anyone else?"

"Because you fit the bill," Derek said. "You're of appropriate age. You're not currently engaged in a relationship like Scott, Jackson, Allison and Lydia. Nor do you seem to have any resistance toward homosexual interactions. In fact, you appear quite interested in the concept."

Stiles sat motionless, mouth slightly open.

It was true. And Derek had been the first to notice it. Really, it still surprised Stiles that Scott hadn't deduced that he was bisexual. Or maybe Scott had and just didn't care. I mean, why else would he care if Danny found him attractive. Or that economic final… he wrote it on the male circumcision for Christ's sake!

"Okay, true." He couldn't really argue with Derek on that. "But, why not some stranger… I mean, come on. Our relationship is already all sorts of weird."

"It's decided. It's you," Derek said, dismissing Stiles' concern.

"I'm getting the feeling that your definition of consensual is going to be very liberal," Stiles said. "Okay, so wait. Does this mean that you have a tendency for 'homosexual interactions?'" He air quoted the last two words.

Derek licked his lips, allowing his eyes to wonder around the room. "On occasion."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, watching him.

"But," Derek continued. "This isn't about love… or affection even. It's about lust. Raw, sexual need."

Again Stiles swallowed hard, trying not to freak out like he usually did. He ran his hands over his face. "Okay," he said, thinking for a moment. "So you don't like me, you just want to use my body?" He _could not_ believe those words just came out of his mouth. He tried to stifle a gag.

"Crudely, yes."

"Crudely?" Stiles repeated. "Hey, I'm not the emotionless, fact-spitting werewolf here. You haven't been sugar coating your words so why should I?"

Derek considered the words, giving an agreeing nod.

"There's one thing," Stiles said. "That I don't think you considered when you chose me as your mate."

Derek looked interested. "That is?"

Stiles didn't quite know how to say it, so he just spit it out. "I'm a virgin."

"I figured that might be the case," Derek said. "It is… irrelevant."

" _Irrelevant_?" Stiles said. "How in God's name is that irrelevant?"

"I will not force you to perform past your current level of experience… or you're level of comfort. Like I said, everything will be consensual. But if you wish to… we will cross those boundaries when the time comes."

Stiles didn't quite understand, but the words sounded so comforting and certain that he found himself agreeing. But then – "Wait. Wait," he said, snapping out of his brief period of serenity. "You just expect me to agree to go along with this? I see the possible benefits for you… I guess. But for me…" he shrugged exaggeratedly.

"I assumed you'd react this way," Derek said.

"Well, it's a fairly logical reaction to such a proposition," Stiles said completely serious.

"So, I've devised some… benefits for you."

"Alright, let's hear 'em."

"I will give you my word that I will personally protect Scott and raise him to cope and live with being a werewolf. As well as protect the others. A task that would be nearly impossible for a human to perform."

Stiles considered this.

Derek took a step closer, intensity in his words. "I know certain things that no human could know. And I've experienced the same difficulties that Scott is going through. I can help him to manage. I can help him… to _live_."

Stiles clenched his eyes closed. Was Derek really playing the 'agree-to-mate-with-me-or-your-loved-ones-will-die ' card? Derek knew that Stiles' loyalty to Scott was his weak spot.

"You'll train him to control it?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," Derek said.

Stiles could try, but knew ultimately Scott would be better off in the hands of Derek. A brother of sorts. The same curse ran through both their veins.

Derek glanced back at the window behind him. "I felt I should let you know," he said and within a second he was gone and part of the black beyond.

"Oh, how sweet," Stiles said, standing from his chair. "Thanks for letting me know!" he yelled after the werewolf. He ran up to the window. "Wait!" he called out. "Are you kidding me? This conversation is far from over!"

Suddenly, Stiles was feeling more angry than anything. Here Derek comes swooping in, practically forcing him into a prostitution-like agreement, and the werewolf just _expects_ him to go along with the plan? How pretentious. How presumptuous.

He might be an extraordinary and powerful supernatural creature, but he had a lesson or two to learn about how to ask someone out on a date.


	2. Persuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story does not fall anywhere specific in the show's plot line.

Friday morning rolled around and Stiles awoke to the hope that last night's insane conversation had been nothing but the work of his own mind. It would've been a strange dream, but not the first homoerotic one he had ever had. The fact that it had been with Derek was bizarre but if it had been a dream Stiles could've just blamed his subconscious and move on. But something in the pit of his stomach told him that it had all been real.

He crawled from his bed, glancing over to where Derek had been standing the night before. Nothing was there but empty space – almost as tangible as Derek had been himself. Stiles went to the window, lifting it and sticking his head out.

At the top of the wooden frame there were five small notches where the white paint had been scraped away. Stiles softly touched the small grooves, physically confirming Derek's existence. He must've used his werewolf claws to stay suspended against the house.

Stiles wasn't very comforted by the revelation. He'd preferred to have had an oddly sexual dream about the werewolf. So his subconscious might have had a little crush on the leather clad man… He could handle a crush. Hell, he had plenty of experience with that: Liking someone who went through lengths to ignore his existence.

But that wasn't the case now. This was the exact opposite. Derek had sought _him_ out.

And whether Stiles liked it or not, this was actually happening.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

At school Stiles debated on whether he should tell Scott or not. Or at least he was debating how much he should tell Scott.

He had no illusions of keeping this arrangement a secret from his best friend ( _if_ he agreed to go along with it in the first place, which he still _hadn't_ … something he should probably run by Derek in the near future).

But he didn't want to let Scott in on the whole ' _I'm whoring out my body for your safety_.' Yeah, that little kicker… probably wouldn't settle too well with Scott.

He could approach the entire situation with a new angle. Maybe not flat out lie but be very liberal with the truth.

"Sooo," he drawled when he finally ran into Scott near his locker. "Guess who dropped by my house last night?"

"Who?" Scott asked.

"Derek," Stiles said.

Scott's eyebrows furrowed and he blinked quickly a couple times. "What did he want?"

A beat passed. "Well," Stiles stressed the word.

"Is something wrong?" Scott's demeanor shifted to worried.

"No, no. Not… exactly. _No_ ," Stiles finally firmly answered. "He just had something very… interesting to say."

"Interesting?" Scott repeated. "What was it?"

"He sort of… kind of… expressed some… sort of interest in…" Stiles bit his bottom lip until it turned white. "Me," he finished weakly.

Scott's eyes shot up to meet Stiles'. "What do you mean interest?"

"I mean, interest," Stiles confirmed. "Like you have an _interest_ in Allison." Alright, it wasn't exactly the same but they were both sexual interests. One was just natural and honest. And the other was arranged and awkward.

"Wait? What? Did he…" Scott said loudly, but corrected himself quickly as he continued. " _Did his make a move on you_?" he finished in a harsh whisper, moving closer to Stiles.

"What? N- No," Stiles said hurriedly, getting a very strange mental image. "He just _told_ me."

"That…" Scott began. "He likes you?"

Stiles nodded his head from side to side, considering the term "like."

"Sort of, yeah," Stiles answered.

"Derek Hale… the emotionally detached and incredibly harsh werewolf said that he likes _you_?"

" _Yes_ ," Stiles said. "Wait… Is it that hard for you to picture someone being interested in me?"

"What—no that isn't what I meant," Scott said. "I'm surprised not because it's _you_ , but because it's _him_. But I guess that answers your question about whether gay guys find you attractive."

"So you _were_ listening to me when I asked that," Stiles said. "And yeah, I guess so."

"So what'd you say?" Scott asked. "You said you weren't interested, right?"

"Well…"

"Stiles," Scott stressed. "Last time I checked you hated the guy."

"I do."

"And he's threatened to kill you… how many times?" Scott continued.

Stiles thought about that for a moment. "True."

"So…" Scott raised his eyebrows. "The answer seems pretty obvious to me." He patted Stiles hard on the shoulder once before beginning to make his way to class. "Let 'em down easy… we still need him."

"Okay," Stiles said, collapsing back into some lockers. He clenched his eyes closed, slamming his head back against the metal behind him.

Scott was right. The answer should be easy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as that.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After school lacrosse practice was about to begin and Stiles was slipping into his jersey in the guy's locker room.

"Come on, man," Scott said, hitting him in the chest. "Don't be late again. Coach'll flip."

"Yeah," Stiles said, stuffing his book bag into the steel lockers and shutting the door. He clipped the lock closed, spinning the dial for habit. He sat to put his cleats on, realizing that he was yet again the straggler of the group.

"Hey Scott," he yelled after his friend, "Can you get—"

"Your crosse?" Derek said, suddenly there ( _always_ just suddenly there) holding out Stiles' lacrosse stick.

"Uhh…" Stiles managed to get out before he recuperated from shock. "Thanks… I guess. You know, it takes away from the favor if you scare the bejesus out of the person in the process," he quipped, snatching the stick.

Derek remained silent.

"Opportune moment for an apology," Stiles said.

Still Derek stayed silent.

Stiles shrugged, not really expecting one anyway. "Whatever," he said, attempting to pass Derek. When his body brushed just slightly against the werewolf's, Derek's hand came out and gripped firmly onto Stiles' arm, stopping him in his place.

"Stiles," Derek said.

Stiles looked into Derek's eyes. "Oh God… Is it happening right now? Like right here?" He began to panic. "Oh God, I'm not ready for this… I'm not even sure if I want to do this in the first place. I thought I had more time…" His large brown eyes turned accusingly toward Derek. "You said I had more time! A couple weeks…"

Derek inhaled patiently, letting his eyes roll up as Stiles continued to talk. Eventually he tightened his grip on the high school boy. "Shut up," he demanded.

"Okay. Okay," Stiles said, buckling slightly against the force on his arm. "Ow," he said quietly.

Derek lessened the grip. "It hasn't started yet," he said. "It's a gradual process."

"Oh," Stiles said. "That's good to know. Finally an answer to the plethora of questions that I have."

"Did you say that you weren't sure if you wanted to do this?" Derek asked, replaying Stiles' panicked rant in his head.

"Yes," Stiles said. "Yes, I did."

"We discussed this last night—"

"No," Stiles interrupted him. "You _told_ me last night." Stiles retracted his arm from Derek's grip. "And by the way, if this…" he motioned between them. "Is going to happen, you're going to stop threatening to rip off my head with your teeth."

Derek growled, taking a step toward Stiles, cornering him against a locker.

"What did I just say?" Stiles asked, looking scared regardless of his previous statement.

"You said if this was going to happen, I'd have to stop… but if I recall, you still haven't agreed to it yet," Derek said, coming to within a foot of Stiles' face. "So I can still rip you head off… with my teeth."

He kept his teeth slightly bared and Stiles was trying to compose himself. Boy, were they close!

"But," Derek continued, leaning even further in. "I'd rather do something else to your body with my teeth."

At that Stiles closed his eyes, opening his mouth. His breath hitched in his throat. "I…" he chocked out. "I'm late for practice," he said. "I need to… go," he squeezed out from Derek's confines, almost tripping over the wooden bench in his path.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Stilinsky!" the coach screamed as Stiles ran onto the field ten minutes late.

"Yes, coach?" Stiles yelled.

"Turn around and sit your ass on the bench. If you're gonna be late, you're not gonna play!" he yelled, with his back already turned as he spoke.

Stiles stopped short. "Right. Yes, sir." He turned, cussing in his head. He threw his stick to the ground, sitting onto the bench.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure in black. He moaned dramatically, letting his shoulders sink. "What are you doing?" he asked, not even looking at Derek.

"We weren't done," Derek said.

"Oh," Stiles said. "How interesting. When you're not done we finish the conversation, but when I'm not done you throw yourself out my window and disappear into the night."

Derek ignored the statement. "What will convince you to become my mate?"

Stiles exhaled heavily, glancing around to see if anyone was in earshot. "It's not just one thing, Derek," he said, getting serious like he did sometimes. "It's about mutual respect."

Derek listened carefully.

"You're gonna have to stop manipulating me like a freakin' puppet. And that reminds me, I'm not just gonna sleep with you… you're going to have to earn it."

"Earn it?" Derek said. "As in…"

"As in you're going to have to work for it. Like any other relationship," Stiles said.

"But this isn't a relationship," Derek said. "It's not about affection—"

"I know. I know," Stiles interrupted. "It's about 'lust. Raw, sexual need.'" Stiles mimicked Derek's voice. "But if that's the case… you just expect me when you want me, then the answer is no." He turned to look directly at Derek. "But if you're willing to work for it…" he swallowed hard. "Then the answer is yes."

"So, essentially," Derek began. "You want me to take you on dates?"

Stiles considered the words, finally nodding. "You're getting the idea."

Silence settled between them.

After a minute, Derek stiffly made his way over and sat next to Stiles on the bench.

Stiles did a double take in his direction. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to watch you play," Derek said, glancing back at the stands behind him. Stiles followed his gaze and his eyes landed on Allison and Lydia. "They come to watch Scott and Jackson play… so, I will come and watch you play."

Stiles kept his gaze on Derek for a long moment. Well, he was already trying. "Alright," he said. "But I warn you… this is about as exciting as it gets," he said, pointing toward the bench he sat on.

The small hint of smile appeared on Derek's lips, but he remained silent.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After the one hundredth suicide the coach made Stiles perform for being late, he was finally released to go home.

Lo and behold, Derek was still there. Sitting on the bench just as Stiles had left him.

"That was entertaining," Derek said as Stiles came up to him.

Thoroughly out of breath, Stiles couldn't waste the breath or energy in figuring out a witty comeback so instead he merely leveled Derek with a glare.

As Stiles passed, Derek fell in step right behind him. "I've never seen you this… disheveled," he remarked. "I didn't know you had that much stamina. Makes me wonder if I can make you this worked up…"

Stiles stopped in his tracks. "Did you just…?"

"But we wouldn't be doing suicides."

"Oh my God, you did," Stiles said, beginning to walk again. "You just came onto to me with a sex joke. I think I have now officially heard it all."

He pulled his arm pads off, throwing them to the ground as he came up to his locker. Most of the guys had already showered and left, leaving an odd few mingling around.

Stiles went to grip the bottom of his shirt, when he stopped, rethinking the action. He turned to Derek.

On normal occasions, undressing in front of other men was not a problem for Stiles, but on normal occasions there wasn't a thick, almost suffocating layer of sexual tension between them… so the situation varied slightly.

"Derek," he said. "Can you wait outside?"

Now there were definitely the beginnings of a grin on Derek's face. "Sure," he said, turning and walking away. "But we both know I could watch you without you knowing."

"That's that mutual respect thing I was mentioning earlier," Stiles called after him, waiting a couple seconds before he began undressing.

After an awkward shower and change, Stiles made his way out to his jeep. As expected, Derek was leaning against the frame of the car.

"Wow," Stiles said, approaching him. "You look way too innocent."

"I've been here the entire time," Derek said.

"Right," Stiles said, although he believed him. "Well…" He slapped his hands against his thighs. "Good night." He outstretched his hand.

Derek looked at it, confused. "What is that?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. "A lot was decided today… I guess I thought we should shake on it." He outstretched his hand further to stress his words.

Derek remained still, staring at the offer in front of him.

And just when Stiles was about to pull away, Derek moved and wrapped his hand around Stiles'. The movement was slow and methodical, the fingers gripping around Stiles securely.

After a moment, Stiles seemed content with interaction. "Okay," he said, but just then he felt the grip tighten and he lost his footing as he was forcibly pulled forward. "Okay," he repeated, but this time it was a lot more strangled sounding.

Their faces were only inches apart, and Derek leaned in just a bit further to speak. "Do you really think a hand shake is how we should confirm this pact?"

"Wha—What would you suggest?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Derek's eyes went to his lips, his free hand moving up to rest against the back of Stiles' neck. "Something a little more fitting…" he said softly, talking as he moved in closer and on the last word his lips brushed against Stiles'. But he still hesitated, not fully closing the distance.

It was Stiles to do that. With the slightest of movement, Stiles responded, prompting the kiss.

It was simple. Just lips against lips. It lasted only seconds, and Stiles could feel Derek's fingers on the back of his neck dig in a little deeper, not wanting it to end so soon, but they gave way when Stiles pulled back.

"I must say," Derek said. "I'm impressed that we got through that without you spazing out."

Stiles smiled childishly. "Myself as well. I'll just wait to do it until after you leave."


	3. Perversion

His dad was working late again. As the clock hit 1 a.m. Stiles rolled over in his bed, his mind littered with anxious thoughts. It was normal for him to worry about his dad, but lately, after discovering the true terrors that haunt their small California town; his worries had grown to agonizing concerns.

He had tried to sleep, but to no avail. He kept expecting the phone to ring, knowing that when he answered it, it would be the dispatcher on the other end. All they would say was, 'Stiles… It's your dad…' and he would automatically know the rest. And in that moment, his life would fall to pieces, shattering into the past where it was once whole. That's all it took. The ring of the phone to kill the life he now had.

It was these kinds of thoughts that kept him staring blankly up at the ceiling.

He glanced at the clock again: 1:04.

Great, four minutes had gone by since the last time he had looked.

He sighed loudly, finally admitting defeat and coming to terms with the fact that he would be awake until his dad got home. With this being the case he would need distractions. Something to keep his mind off of his father.

What was exciting in his life? Oh yeah, the fact that he had kissed Derek freaking Hale. And it was him that kissed Derek, granted Derek had strongly influenced the situation, but it had been Stiles to press his lips against the werewolf's.

Why had he done it? It seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time. If he hadn't it would've been like leaving someone hanging that was trying to give him a high five. Awkward. And it would've left things unresolved. So, kissing Derek was the logical action to take.

The kiss had officially sealed the deal on their arrangement, which Stiles still held some reservations about. But with his new rules, it appeared that he would get the answers he had been craving.

As far as feelings went… he hadn't felt any stirrings when they kissed. And honestly when he thought about the lip lock he was tempted to grab his pillow and place it firmly over his face. Technically it had been his first kiss (granted this was because he was excluding the kiss he had with Lucy-Ann back in the 5th grade). As far as kisses went, he figured it had been alright. Never in his life did he ever think that his first kiss would be with a half man half werewolf, but hey, made the story more interesting.

He could just see it now: him describing his first kiss to his future kids. ' _Yes, daddy's first kiss was with another man._   _And he could turn himself into a werewolf_.'

Okay… that actually sounded pretty badass.

So maybe he had scored a good first kiss. But at the end of the day, it hadn't done anything for him. Not in his nether regions, anyway.

There was a legitimate chance that he was not and never would be attracted to Derek sexually… which would make this entire pact a little ridiculous.

But there had been that one moment… when Derek had advanced on him in the locker room. He had been threatening his life, yes, but his proximity had been so close that it had undoubtedly sent a rush of arousal through Stiles. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it, but that was unlikely because Derek tended to shove people into walls and up against hard surfaces. Maybe it was what he had said… you know, the part about him doing things to Stiles' body with his teeth. Something about that confession had stuck with Stiles… and still was.

Just then Stiles felt a small twinge of stimulation run through his crotch. He shifted his body slightly, liking the sensation he had felt. Lazily he let his hand travel down, beneath the covers. At first he let his fingertips run lightly across his lower abdomen, stopping at his pant's line.

He closed his eyes, picturing Derek standing in front of him… close, like he had been in the locker room. He could see Derek's lax lips, revealing a slither of his teeth.

He angled his fingers differently to get just the sensation of the nails, sharper and harder. They could be teeth. Derek's teeth against his skin.

And another shot of arousal ran through him and he spread his legs a little wider. His fingers broke the clothes barrier and he felt his own hot flesh, already semi hard. His fingers remained yielding, trying to entice himself as much as possible before hardening or quickening his touch.

He found himself exhaling heavier and his back arched slightly, his hips coming up to meet his hand. He began adding pressure intermittently, beginning to stroke a little faster.

He bared his teeth momentarily as a longer, deeper wave of pleasure coursed through his small frame. His hips bucked uncontrollably as the sensations mounted. And the last image he had before he climaxed was of Derek, leaning into him… his firm body pressing itself against Stiles.

He came, hearing his mind scream the name Derek, but he managed to control his actual mouth. Some moans might've escaped but he'd be damned before he screamed out Derek's name in ecstasy.

Of course, a couple days ago, he would have probably said the same thing about masturbating to Derek and look at where he was now.

Sticky and drained.

His breathing had finally settled and he felt relaxed for the first time in a while, until… there was an extremely loud bang on the outside of his window and within seconds a figure was inside his room and at the foot of his bed.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, almost scaring himself off the bed.

Derek stood, panting slightly as his eyes searched frantically around the room.

" _Jesus! You have to stop doing that_!" Stiles screamed. "What the hell are you doing here?" He had managed to bunch the comforter into his lap to cover his still naked downstairs.

"I thought you were in trouble," Derek said as he realized that whatever he thought had been a false alarm.

"What?" Stiles asked. "Why?"

"Because I felt your heart race increase drastically… it had been calm all night until just recently," he answered.

Stiles closed his eyes, quickly putting the pieces together.

_Shit_.

"Have you ever heard of a nightmare?" Stiles said, (desperately) trying to make an excuse for why his heart rate would increase significantly at 1:30 in the morning.

"Of course, but…" Derek trailed off, obviously not content with the whole nightmare excuse. "This was different." His light eyes landed on Stiles and stayed there, lingering as if he was just now realizing how uncomfortable Stiles was acting. And then,  _ever so slightly_ , he inhaled a little sharper than usual and his head began to cock to the side.

He was putting the pieces together and there was nothing Stiles could do to stop him.

"Oh God," Stiles said, covering his face with his hands.

Had he really just been caught masturbating by the person he had been masturbating to?

"Oh," Derek said, understanding the situation fully now.

"Yep!" Stiles said. "So you can leave now… obviously there is no emergency here so…" He made a shooing motion towards his open window. "If you could please leave so I can proceed to kill myself."

Derek continued to stand where he was. "But…" he said, the gears in his head still turning.

"What?" Stiles snapped.

"You called out my name," Derek said, his eyes suddenly darker than they were before.

"What?" Stiles said. "I did  _not_."

"You did." Derek nodded. "I heard you. In your head you called out my name."

Stiles froze, urgently trying to think of anything to say.  _Anything_  that would exonerate him. And when he couldn't, he grabbed the nearest pillow. "So I'll just be over here smothering myself to death." With that he slammed the pillow against his face and collapsed back onto the bed.

He didn't have to hear Derek to know that he had walk over to him. A second later the pillow was pulled off his face and thrown to the end of the bed.

"Derek, just please… go away," Stiles said, not looking at the man standing over him.

Derek moved his hand as if to rest it on Stiles' chest.

"Don't," Stiles said, putting his finger up as a warning.

Derek slowly retracted his hand. "I'm not going to do anything," he assured. "Although it seems my work here has already been done."

A look formed on Stiles' face that was the epitome of  _shut_ - _the_ - _fuck_ - _up_.

"But next time, can I please be present as well?" Derek asked.

"Go away Derek," Stiles said.

"But—"

"If I say yes will you go away?" Stiles asked.

Derek just smiled down at Stiles.

"Then yes, fine," Stiles said. "The next time I…" he hesitated. "Just yes, okay?"

Derek began to backtrack away and Stiles rolled over so that his back was facing the werewolf. And at that very moment, the sound of the garage door opening resounded through the room.

"Oh," Stiles said, sitting up. "My dad is home so you'll need to go out…" He looked around his room. Derek was already gone. "…the window."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next morning Stiles awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking. He stretched his body, reaching his arms high above his head. His muscles quivered slightly at the strain, but it ultimately felt good. He breathed the intoxicating smell in, feeling his stomach already growling for sustenance.

He shifted his body, the sheets getting wrapped around him as he did.

There was a weight on him, but it was distant and intangible. He cleared his mind wondering why he felt so… off, when he remembered the happenings from the night before.

"Oh… right," Stiles mumbled. "I singlehandedly (no pun intended) lost all of my dignity last night."

What a great way to start the day.

He ambled down the stairs, acting a lot happier than he felt. He smiled as he met his dad's gaze.

"Morning," his dad said. "I made breakfast." The simple smile that accompanied his words was enough to turn Stiles' smile into a genuine one as well.

"Thanks, dad," he said, sitting at the table.

"Perfect timing too. Bacons almost done."

"Great," Stiles said, already losing himself to his thoughts.

How could he avoid Derek… forever?

The only answer that kept popping into his head was: kill him. And since he was no where near strong enough to accomplish that, he'd just have to live with the immense embarrassment of last night.

Maybe if he got Scott in on it too… they could possibly tag team together to kill Derek. But in that case Stiles would have to explain  _why_  he wanted the werewolf dead. Yeah, that  _wasn't_  going to happen.

"Stiles?" his dad said, setting the plate in front of his son. His eyes conveyed soft concern.

"Yeah," Stiles said, breaking out of his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" his dad asked. He inhaled as if he wanted to continue, but he stopped himself. Instead he just studied his son quietly, knowing something was wrong but not willing to ask what.

Stiles could tell his dad wanted in. Wanted to know about Stiles' life. Wanted to be there for his son, but for so many reasons Stiles just couldn't bring himself to fully let his dad in. First and foremost, it would put his dad in danger and he could never do that. And secondly, he didn't want to disappoint his dad in any way. And he feared if he knew about certain parts of his life… he would inevitably be disappointed.

"I'm fine, dad," he said, putting on that smile again. He was going to add, ' _I'm just worried about school_ ' but that would be highly improbable.

His dad still didn't buy it. "…Alright," he said, dropping it. "Oh," the dad changed his features to lighter emotions. "I found this for you on the front steps this morning."

The dad held a single red rose out. With it was attached a small, folded note.

Stiles took the present, reading his name on the outside of the note. He opened the piece of paper and inside was written:

_Meet me after school_

_My house_

He closed the note, placing it onto the table.

"Someone special?" his dad asked.

"Not quite," Stiles said.

"Are you going to go meet… them?"

Stiles noticed the avoidance of a distinct pronouns… not, are you going to go meet  _her_ , but  _them_. His dad totally knew.

"No," Stiles said, getting up from the table.

"But your breakfast?" the dad said.

"Right," Stiles said, stuffing half the food into his mouth. "So good… thanks dad," he said, voice muffled. He left the table, leaving a trail of food behind.

When he got back to his room he threw the rose onto the floor.

"Send me a freakin' rose," Stiles said. "I'll just return the favor and send you a huge bouquet of wolfsbane!"

 


	4. Putt Putt Play

Stiles knew that Scott would want to know all the juicy details about how he denied Derek's advances… the problem was, that he had actually agreed to dating the werewolf. The opposite of Scott's advice to say no to Derek.

So, he would attempt to avoid the conversation.

And the first thing Scott said to him when he walked onto the school's property was, "So, how'd he take it?"

"Uhh…"

"And why have you been avoiding my texts all weekend?"

"Well…" Stiles started, but then by the grace of God (or just plain luck) Allison appeared in front of them. "Hey, there's Allison," Stiles said, pointing across the parking lot.

"Oh," Scott said, whipping his head around. A daft smile slowly grew on his face.

"Go," Stiles urged.

"But—we need to talk about—"

"Later," Stiles said. "It's fine. Go."

A large grin materialized on Scott's face. "Thanks, man."

And off he went. Normally, situations like this annoyed Stiles. But they were quite convenient when he was trying to avoid a topic of dislike.

He just hoped that this plan would work for the entire day.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

And it did. For the most part, anyway. There was a quick dodge-and-ignore during lunch period but Stiles had successfully made it through the day without broaching the topic of Derek Hale.

And he hoped the rest of the day would play out similarly.

But just when he got in sight of his jeep, his hopes were dashed. There, sitting innocently on the hood was a single red rose. Looked exactly like the first one. And as Stiles approached it, he wondered if it was the first one. A note was tied around the stem. It read:

_First date_

_Right Now_

He closed the note, studying the rose. "I thought I was supposed to meet you at your house," he said, speaking straight ahead.

Derek moved up beside him. "I didn't think you'd show up."

Stiles looked at him. "What gave you that impression?"

"Normally romantic gifts are not thrown on the floor, for one," Derek said.

"Yeah? Was that not enough of a hint for you?" Stiles asked. "And what? Were you stalking me this morning?"

"No," Derek pressed. "I dropped by your house after you had left. Wanted to make sure you had received the rose."

"Got it, thanks," Stiles said, jiggling the rose in the air for a second. He moved to the driver's door and got inside.

A second later Derek climbed into the passenger side door. He intertwined his fingers and rested his hands in his lap.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked.

"Did you not read the note?" Derek asked logically.

"Yes… I just thought that I had implied  _rather heavily_  that I wasn't interested," Stiles said.

"Start the car," Derek said. "We're going on a date."

Stiles glared at him. "No."

Now Derek shot a glare that was a lot more threatening than the one Stiles mustered. "If you don't—"

" _Up-pup-pup-pup_ ," Stiles interrupted, raising a single finger. "No threats."

Derek closed his mouth, clenching his jaw. "Fine," he said through his teeth. "I get it. You're upset."

Stiles went back to looking straight ahead, settling further into his seat as if he just now realized that he might be there for awhile.

"It wasn't my intention to come in on you while… you were doing  _that_ ," Derek said.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, but was listening.

"But if it makes you feel better," he continued. "I'm going to admit something to you."

Stiles' eyes fell to his lap. "What?"

"Remember when that hunter shot me and I needed your help?" Derek asked.

"How could I forget?"

"Well," Derek pressed. "Remember when I asked you to cut off my arm and you refused? So I grabbed your shirt and practically yanked you across the table?"

"Yes," Stiles said, sounding just slightly annoyed as if he didn't quite know where this little story was headed.

"I use that memory of you to masturbate to," Derek finished without a beat.

Now Stiles looked at the werewolf beside him.

"Yes, really," Derek said, already answering Stiles' next question. "You're not alone and you weren't first… I was."

"Okay, but at least I didn't walk in on you while in the act," Stiles said.

"True," Derek said. "But you also didn't have to spill one of your masturbation fantasies to me."

Stiles nodded dramatically. "Touché." And he wouldn't be anytime soon. The fact that he liked Derek's claws a little too much was for him and himself to know. He thought back to the moment in vet's office. "So what exactly about that moment did you like so much?"

Derek gave Stiles a look, but was simultaneously trying to suppress a smile. "I guess the closeness… the proximity."

"We've been pretty close since then…" Stiles said, thinking. "Like the time you slammed me against the wall in my room  _or_  the time in the locker room  _or_  the time by my car…" he listed off.

Derek shrugged, glancing out the window. "I guess I've needed new material."

Stiles glanced sideways at the man next to him. Derek was still looking away, which was good because Stiles could feel heat rising into his face. He grabbed his keys and jammed the correct one into the ignition, bringing the jeep to life.

Derek watched him. "So does this mean my apology is accepted?"

Stiles opened his mouth, inhaling sharply. "You never  _actually_  apologized…"

The werewolf reached his arm out, resting it for a moment on Stiles' leg. "I'm sorry."

Stiles tried to keep his breathing steady, glancing down at the hand on his thigh. When did Derek's touch start making him flustered? "Yeah, alright." Stiles swallowed hard. "Apology accepted."

Derek retracted his hand. "So, on second thought… I'm the one supposed to be taking you on the date… you wanna take my car?"

Stiles turned to him, mouth agape. " _Chyeah_."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"Soo…" Stiles began after a couple minutes of silence. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Derek answered, his eyes intently watching the road as he drove. "Do you need to be anywhere soon?"

"Yeah, I've gotta go home and study for an economics test…" Stiles said sarcastically.

"So that's a no?"

"Yes… it's a no," Stiles said. "Why? How far are we driving? Should I have brought a sleeping bag?"

"No," Derek answered. "But I'll keep that in mind."

"A multi-day date… that's pretty serious stuff," Stiles said.

"Exactly," Derek said. "So for our first date I thought I'd go classic." He turned the car into a parking lot.

Stiles' eyes glanced out the window, automatically recognizing where he was. A smile broke onto his face. "Miniature golf?"

"Yes, apparently a perfect first date location. It's outside, casual, and not too romantic. It also adds a hint of competition if we want to make the date more exciting," Derek said in an almost robotic voice.

Stiles just stared at him. "Did you read that somewhere?"

Derek hesitated, before finally answering. "Maybe."

"You googled our first date location, didn't you?" Stiles asked.

"Actually I yahoo-ed it," Derek said.

Stiles laughed. "' _It also adds a hint of competition if we want to make the date more exciting_ —'" he mimicked Derek's words.

"Are you through?" Derek said, not at all amused.

"No," Stiles said, opening the passenger side door. "I was just going to add that I can think of a couple  _other ways_  to make a date more exciting." With that he slipped out of the car, but then appeared almost immediately again. "And it  _ain't_  hitting around some balls with some sticks… and trying to score in the hole..." He disappeared again.

And quickly reappeared. "Actually… that sounds exactly right."

He slammed his door closed.

Derek closed his eyes, letting out a small laugh. He never really realized how homoerotic putt-putt golf could be. "This is going to be interesting," he said to himself before assembling enough courage (energy) to exit his car so he could begin his date with Stiles.

"You know," Stiles commented just as Derek came up beside him. "I don't really know how to feel about you bringing me somewhere where you will be inherently better. All you have to do is turn your werewolf powers on and they'll be hole-in-ones all evening long."

"I won't use my werewolf abilities," Derek said. "Plus, I don't think strength will help much in this game."

"But you can increase your accuracy… right?" Stiles asked.

"I can see clearer… farther as a wolf," Derek answered. "It's like every sense in heightened."

"Touch?"

"Every sense," Derek reconfirmed.

"Hmm…" Stiles said, not being able to stop his mind from thinking of Derek's claws again. He tried to repress the images.

Derek glanced at him, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Whoa," Stiles said, stopping just before they entered the putt-putt establishment. "Are you reading my mind again?"

"No, I wasn't… not right then," Derek said.

"Not right then? How often do you read my mind?" Stiles asked.

"I try not to," Derek said. "I realize that it is an invasion of privacy. And I know you well enough to know you don't particularly like when I do it."

"Well, yeah," Stiles said quietly.

"So I don't when I can control it," Derek said.

"Control it? How do you mean?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm not sure," Derek said. "This has never really happened with anyone else before. For some reason, on rare occasions you seem to connect with my mind. Inadvertently on your part as well as mine. It's like your mind reaches out to mine and… I can't control it."

"So, the other night when you heard me say your name… It was as if my voice  _invaded_   _your_  mind?"

"Essentially," Derek said.

"Huh," Stiles said, thinking over this new information.

"So," Derek said. "It's not so much me intruding on your thoughts… but yours joining with mine."

"Hmm," Stiles now said, sounding unconvinced. "I still feel wildly at a disadvantage to you and bravo…  _really_. Way to make yourself look completely innocent." He grabbed the door, quickly swinging it open. "I'll get the door myself,  _thanks_ ," he said, entering.

Derek followed swiftly, slipping inside before the door closed.

They walked in unison up to the counter. A large sign hung above them with bright blue lettering.

Stiles read the words aloud. "Howdy! Welcome to Adventure Cove! The perfect location for great,  _family fun_ …" He stressed the last two words. "Full round, 18 Holes is 9.99…  _9.99_ ," he repeated, seeming surprised by the cost. "It's expensive to hit around balls these days."

An Adventure Cove worker slowly walked over to them. She didn't greet them.

"Aren't I paying for you?" Derek asked.

"Okay, this may be a date, but I'm still a dude and you're not paying for me," Stiles said. "We're going Dutch."

"One round each?" the girl asked, chewing on her bottom lip. "Paying  _separate_." Her hip jutted out while she waited for an answer.

They each paid and chose their golf clubs. Derek chose a black ball and Stiles chose dark green.

Once on the course, Stiles asked, "So, are we going to make this more exciting?"

"What do you suggest?" Derek asked.

"Ripping each other's clothes off and going over to that fake-rock cave thing and having our way with each other?" he asked utterly serious.

Derek sucked on his teeth, a look crossing over his eyes for a moment. "You're lucky that I know you're kidding."

"How lucky?" Stiles asked.

Derek moved and was against the human so quickly he blurred. Stiles stumbled back, but Derek easily steadied him. "You have no idea the restraint it takes to not taint every inch of you untouched body. And the only reason I resist is because I know you're not ready. But the more you tempt me," he inhaled unsteadily, running his thumb over Stiles' bare neck. "The harder it is for me."

Stiles' eyes fell to Derek's slightly parted lips. "So, that lucky, huh?"

"Yeah.  _That_  lucky," Derek said, beginning to back away.

Derek managed to get a foot or so away before Stiles' arm shot out, gripping roughly onto the front of Derek's shirt. He yanked the werewolf back toward him, allowing his lips to take Derek's.

It was a real kiss this time. Not like that first time crap.

Derek's hands came up and grasped Stiles' face and the back of his neck. At first the kiss was on the rougher side, but they quickly settled into a rhythm.

Derek opened his mouth and let his tongue slip through, softly taking all of Stiles that he could. Stiles' reciprocated by allowing the invasion and feeling the roughness of Derek's tongue against his own.

Derek moved even closer, and Stiles could feel the hardness of the werewolf's stomach muscles against his abdomen… against his hips, and he exhaled heavily into Derek's mouth.

The moment was quite flawless until a harsh vibration ran through Stiles' leg and very,  _very_  close to his crotch. He jerked uncontrollably at the sensation, ending the kiss early.

Stiles released a strangled noise as the sensation hit him again and he realized that it was his phone vibrating in his pant's pocket. " _Shit_ ," he cursed softly, jamming his hand into his pants. He retrieved the phone.

It was Scott.

He licked his lips, bringing the phone to his ear.

Derek watched, still a little breathless from their recent interaction.

"Hello?" Stiles said, trying to steady his voice.

"Stiles!" Scott said.

"What?"

"Stiles, I need to talk to you now! Right now!"

"But I'm—"

"This can't wait."

The line deadened.

"Scott! Sco—" he pulled the phone away, tempted to squish it to little, little pieces.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"Scott needs me," Stiles said. "I gotta go."

"Stiles," Derek said. "He's fine. Allison probably… stubbed a toe or something."

"I have to go, Derek," Stiles said. "Scott needs me." He grabbed his golf club and started back towards the building.

"He doesn't deserve you, you know?" Derek said to Stiles' back.

Stiles stopped. "What?"

"Scott… He doesn't deserve you."

Stiles put his hands out, shrugging. "I can't talk about this right now. Please, I've got to go."

Derek seemed like he had much more to say on the topic, but he kept quiet, falling in step behind Stiles.

 


	5. Payback

Stiles ran sporadically up to Scott's door, practically slamming his body against it when he got there. He knocked hurriedly, bruising his knuckles in the process.

"Scott!" he yelled into the door.

Nothing came from within the house.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at Derek who remained in his Camaro. The car hummed as it sat idle on the road.

"Scott! Come on!" Stiles yelled, pounding on the door again. He moved over to the nearest window and tried to look inside. Just then he heard some keys jiggling and saw the door knob twisting. He ran back over, meeting Scott's face just as it appeared.

"Dude, are you okay?" Stiles asked.

Scott's eyes looked past Stiles, resting on the black Camaro that sat in front of his house. "Derek's here?"

"What?" Stiles asked, ignoring the question and asking his own again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah… well, no," Scott said. "I ran out of hair gel earlier… and  _that sucked_." He turned around and disappeared, leaving the door wide open.

Stiles stood there, perplexed, with mouth agape. A couple seconds passed before he spazed out. "What?" He hit the door as he entered, causing it to shake slightly on its hinges. "Scott, what is wrong with you?" he asked to a seemingly empty house.

No response.

"Scott?"

He took a couple more steps forward before Scott appeared suddenly around a corner.

" _Dude_ …" Stiles put his hands out, physically asking for any sort of answer for his friend's odd behavior.

"Yeah, can you pick me up some?" Scott asked. "It's called Got2B. But with the number 2 and just the letter b," he traced the letter in thin air, as if Stiles didn't know what the letter 'B' looked like.

"What are you high or something? Are you drunk?" Stiles asked, under the impression that werewolves couldn't get drunk, but he couldn't fathom any other explanation for Scott's strange behavior. "Is this some weird werewolf thing you're going through?"

"No," Scott answered. "It's not any of those things. I need hair gel."

"So you're saying that you called me in a panic because you ran out of a hair product?" Stiles asked, placing his hands angrily on his hips.

"Yep," Scott said. "I just thought that maybe you and your  _boyfriend_  could go pick it up for me." At this he shot a glare in the direction of Derek.

Stiles pulled back, feeling suddenly more on the defensive. "What are you talking about?"

"He followed us, Stiles," Derek said, suddenly standing in the room as well.

All three men stood equidistant to each other, forming a very tension filled triangle. Scott and Derek were glowering at each other.

"So, I think I discovered why you've been avoiding my texts all weekend," Scott said to Stiles but was still looking at the werewolf.

"You followed us?" Stiles asked Scott. "And you knew about it?" he directed toward Derek.

"You're my best friend Stiles. I'm going to notice when you ignore me all weekend and then proceed to ignore me at school too. Yeah, that dodge at lunch…  _smooth_ ," Scott said.

"So you decided to follow me after school?"

"I would've just asked you what was going on, but it's not like you were making that particularly easy for me."

That was fairly accurate. Stiles had to give him that. He turned to Derek. "And you?"

"I sensed his presence close to us," Derek said. "But that's not exactly uncommon for that to be the case. It wasn't until we got here that I fully put the pieces together." Derek's eyes moved to Scott and he proceeded to just stare at him, teeth slightly grinding together.

Scott let out a low growl, bunching his hands into fists. He took a step toward Derek.

Stiles quickly realized what they were doing. "Hey. Hey! No werewolf secret mind communication," he demanded. "I have a feeling your conversation is about me, so I would like to be included as well!"

Both werewolves looked at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott asked.

"I was going to.  _Soon_. But we just went on our first date today, so it's not like it's been going on for a while now," Stiles said. "I just wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Wait? You two are dating… like really dating?" Scott asked.

"You saw it yourself," Derek chimed in. "Two buddies just hanging out don't kiss on miniature golf courses."

At this Stiles tried to suppress a smile.

But Scott was not so amused. "I realize that," he said. "What I don't think Stiles realizes is how much danger he is putting himself into."

"Oh, that's pretty funny coming from the guy who is also dating a human, but your situation is even worse. Allison has been left in ignorance in your case," Derek said.

"And you don't think that bothers me?" Scott asked. "Kills me every night to think of the danger I am putting her in?"

"It should," Derek said.

"And you're so different?" Scott asked.

"I am," Derek answered. "I was born a wolf. I know how to control it. I am not a danger to myself or to the people I care about. If anything, I can protect Stiles more. Better than even you."

Scott bared his teeth in fury, his eyes flashing gold. Anger forcing him to shift.

Derek grunted, his eyes turning a brilliant blue. His shift a lot more controlled than Scott's.

"Whoa! Whoa," Stiles stepped in between the two belligerent males. "Come on, guys. Don't be ridiculous.  _Derek_." He kept a stern look on the elder werewolf, knowing he could diffuse the situation a lot quicker than Scott could. There was no doubt about it; Derek was controlled and confident with his shifts. He knew every element of the change like it was as simple as breathing.

Derek turned back to his human form.

"Calm down, Scott," Stiles said.

Scott was forcibly trying to slow his breathing and he kept his eyes downcast. Eventually, the two other men could see a visible loosening of his muscles as he was able to control the shift and turn back human.

"You alright?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Scott said, still breathy.

"Good," Stiles said, slapping him over the head. "Don't be so stupid! No one is getting hurt here. God, I feel like a parent."

Derek scoffed quietly.

"And you," Stiles turned. "Do you have to jump full throttle into any sort of confrontation? I think you resort to physicality a little too often to solve your problems…"

"You weren't complaining on the putt-putt course," Derek said.

Scott grimaced. "Oh  _God_ ," he whispered.

Stiles seemed speechless. " _Well_ …." he trailed off, with a silly little smile on his face.

"Plus, I figured I could teach Scott a lesson or two," Derek said. "I was looking at it from a teaching perspective."

" _Right_ ," Stiles said. "I don't think Scott's mom would appreciate that type of lesson going on in her living room."

"Can you two please stop flirting?" Scott asked.

"Scott," Stiles said, his tone turning serious. "I know you feel like you have to protect me. And I know you think that this might be a mistake, but it's my decision to make. And I should be allowed to make it without you attacking my date. I didn't grapple with Allison on your first date did I?"

Scott got a funny image of Stiles just taking Allison out. Just sideswiping her to the floor.

"No, I didn't," Stiles said. "But you're right. I should have told you my decision, but honestly I didn't figure it out for sure until just recently. But, obviously, I said yes."

"So…" Scott drawled. "You two are, like, together?"

Stiles looked to Derek. "We're dating."

"Have you two… you know?" Scott asked slowly, but his face suggested that he really didn't want to know.

"Have you and Allison had sex?" Stiles asked.

" _Dude_?" Scott said.

"Exactly," Stiles said. "It's none of your business. Plus, I doubt you'll wanna hear much about it anyway."

"True," Scott said.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Stiles sighed heavily as he got back into Derek's car, finally leaving Scott's house. "So I guess that date was a little ruined," he said.

"Well," Derek said. "Actually I was thinking… do you have time for one more little stop?"

Stiles glanced at him and the look on Derek's face made him smile. He didn't know why, but it did. The werewolf looked mischievous. He had to know what Derek was thinking. "Why not? Let's go."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

At school the next day Scott walked up to his locker. He swirled in the code for his lock and felt immediately pressure against the door as it began to open. Before he could control it, the door opened and out spilled an endless number of Got2B hair gel bottles. They hit the ground, spinning out everywhere.

Everyone within 100 feet was watching him.

Scott looked at the mess on the floor, smiling to himself.

"Ah!" Stiles walked up, arms spread out in the air. "I see you got your gift. It's from Derek and me," he said, the biggest grin on his face. " _You're welcome_."

"How?"

"How?" Stiles repeated. "Oh, you know, just three grocery stores, seven drug stores, and fifty miles later… bam! Fifty bottles of Got2B…" he drew a 'B' in the air… "Hair gel."

"Wow," Scott laughed.

"Yeah," Stiles said, putting his arm around Scott's shoulder. "This is just our friendly way of saying, don't ever cock block us again."

"I won't," Scott said. "I promise I will never interrupt one of your dates again. I mean unless its life or death…"

Stiles seemed to consider this. "Yeah,  _I guess_."

"So," Scott said. "I didn't want to ask last night, you know, in front of Derek, but how did the first date go?"

"Oh, I don't know," Stiles said, shrugging. "It was just, kind of… the best date ever."

 


	6. Pit Stops

A cafeteria wasn't the perfect place for an intimate conversation. There were dozens of ears within hearing distance and a constant traffic of people as they passed to come and go. However, the capacity of the students alone could drown out each individual conversation. The drone of voices could overcome a single one at any point in the day. So, essentially, despite how public the area was, it was actually quite convenient for a private discussion.

"So you think Derek is  _sexy_?" Scott asked with a small grin on his face. He asked just as Stiles took a huge bite from his pizza.

This, of course, didn't hinder Stiles from answering anyway though. "He looks good in a black shirt," he said, shrugging. "Actually he looks good with no shirt," he corrected himself, as if he was just making that discovery right then. "I mean,  _gah_ , have you seen his muscles?" He took another oversized bite.

"I think everyone's seen his muscles," Scott said. "He's definitely not shy about taking his shirt off."

"Would you be?" Stiles asked, but then quickly added. "Not that your body isn't… nice… as… well," he slowed his words down making the situation more awkward than need be. But he didn't want to insult Scott by implying that his body wasn't as good as Derek's (which it wasn't), but he didn't want to over-compliment him either.  _Oh, don't worry Scott, you're so ripped too_.

But regardless of Stiles' effort, Scott seemed weirded out by the flattery.

"Dude," Stiles said, letting his hands fall heavily onto the lunch table. "I'm not in love with you."

"I know," Scott said, acting as if the statement had come out of the blue. But then his confidence faltered slightly. "You've never… had feelings…"

Stiles waited for him to finish but apparently he wasn't going to. "For you?"

"Well,  _yeah_ ," Scott said. "I've known you my whole freakin' life and if you've been interested in guys this whole time it seems like I would be your first… I don't know, crush or whatever."

Stiles listened, tonguing his bottom teeth. He quickly licked his lips before he spoke. "First off, being interested in guys has always been more of a curiosity for me, and not so much a part of my sexuality. It just so happens that now it is becoming part of my sexuality, maybe exclusively. So, yes, Scott. You  _were_  a curiosity."

"You never told me," Scott said.

"It wasn't a definite thought," Stiles said. "I wasn't going to just  _randomly_  bring up the fact that I  _might_  be interested in guys and that I  _think_  that we  _might_  make a good couple. It was more a hypothetical situation."

"Huh," Scott said. "So, never any feelings?"

"No," Stiles said. "Sorry, but you weren't my first boy crush."

"Well," Scott said. " _Hypothetically_ … I think we'd make a good couple."

A wide smile grew on Stiles' face. "Yeah, we totally would."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

For their second date, Stiles agreed to make it easier on Derek. He was the one to pick the brooding man up and he was the one to choose the second location. At first, selecting an appropriate place was challenging for Stiles, because he needed to decide on a place of similar interest and one that defined who he was individually. He wanted it to be a unique date, with a Stiles' twist. So he thought about what he enjoyed. And what continued to come to his mind was food.

Taking Derek out to dinner was simple enough, but Stiles wanted to do something a little more exciting than that.

He pulled up to Derek's decrepit house, honking his horn a couple times. He bounced slightly in his seat, dancing to Simon Curtis'  _Super Psycho Love_.

He sang quietly to himself, "Say that you want me every day that you want me every way…"

Suddenly there was a loud pound on the passenger side window. Stiles looked over, seeing classic, perfect-looking Derek standing outside his car. He continued to mouth the song to the man, "That you need me, got me tripping, super psycho love." Eventually he unlocked the door, allowing Derek inside.

Derek immediately turned the CD player down. "Usually a date comes to the door to pick up his date."

Stiles shrugged, abandoning all romantic tact. "You knew I was here. Hell, even a human could've known that… with how loud I was blaring my music."

"Then why'd you honk?" Derek asked.

"Ohh,  _just to annoy you_ ," Stiles said, backing the jeep out quickly and veering back out onto the road.

"Where are we going?" Derek asked, dropping the little banter fight they had going.

"Have you eaten?" Stiles asked.

"No," Derek answered.

"You don't eat very much do you?" Stiles asked. "I mean, by the looks of your kitchen I don't expect much cooking goes on in there. And by the looks of your body you don't eat very much fast food."

"I eat appropriate portions and strictly healthy food. Generally raw food, so I don't need the kitchen facilities."

Stiles glanced at him twice before going back to concentrating on the road. "You mean like little bunny foo foo, don't you?"

A look of confusion crossed Derek's features. "What?"

"You know," Stiles said, starting to sing the little tune. "Little bunny foo foo, hoping through the forest. Scooping up the field mice, and  _getting_  bopped on the head."

"Is this your way of asking me if I kill rabbits and eat them raw?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Stiles admitted.

"When I shape shift, the temptation to kill is heightened. Killing small game is fairly commonplace for my kind."

Stiles seemed saddened by this. "Poor bunny foo foo."

"Its basic survival of the fittest," Derek said, seeming unfazed.

"But no kitties right?" Stiles asked. "Or puppies."

"Puppies?" Derek repeated.

"Oh, right…  _cannibalism_ ," Stiles said. "Well that's good. You might be a cold blooded killer of little bunny foo foo's all over the world but at least you don't kill your own kind. That's gotta be a plus, right? Shows some sense of humanity, yet. Well, tonight we are eating all  _cooked_  food, preferably prepared and brought to us. And that strictly healthy thing…" he looked at Derek. "Is going to have to be waved for tonight."

Derek hesitated, looking at the road. "Stiles," he said.

The high school boy continued to stare at him. "Deal?"

"Stiles!" Derek said, gripping the door handle. "Fine, fine! Just watch the road."

"Great!" Stiles said, correcting the car as it had drifted off the side of the road. "Aaaaannnnnd, we're here," he said, pulling into a parking spot of a large neon sign.

Derek's eyes searched the area, taking in his surroundings. "Is this a… truck stop?"

"No," Stiles said. "Not exactly, at least." And then he got out of the car.

"Okay," Derek said and followed.

"This—" Stiles outstretched his arms. "Is Lui's Pit Stop."

Derek's eyes finally fell onto a large, wooden board, with the words ' _Lui's Pit Stop_ ' written crudely in thick red paint. The restaurant, if it could even be called that, was no larger than a small RV… which actually might've been what it was. Wheel-less RV, at least. A small rectangular window was on the side, resembling the window of an ice cream truck.

Small tables with plastic benches were scattered around the establishment. Some music was being played from speakers on the top of the restaurant and a couple small groups of people were already sitting and enjoying themselves.

"This," Stiles said, putting his arm around Derek's shoulder. "Is right next to the on ramp for the highway, plus the access road. Lot's of passerby's and truckers stop here for a quick bite. But it's become quite the hangout for high school kids lately."

"Aw, bringing me to all the hot spots?" Derek asked, finally showing a little amusement with the situation.

"Just wanted to show you off," Stiles joked.

"Yeah, let's just hope neither of us gets food poisoning," Derek said, not hiding his skepticism for the quality of food he was about to experience.

"Yep, always a risk here," Stiles agreed. "But," he patted Derek's back roughly. "Don't worry. You're a werewolf. Food poisoning can't affect you that badly."

"But I'd rather not be cleaning up your throw up all night either," Derek said. "Speaking of which, I'm glad we took your car…"

Stiles shrugged off Derek's concern. "Sit," he said. "I'm ordering."

"And paying?" Derek asked.

"Oh, just this once," Stiles said, walking away. "But just 'cause you're so special."

Minutes later, the high school boy was re-approaching the table. In his hands was a large plastic plate piled high with food.

Stiles set the plate in front of Derek, who couldn't hide his initial look of shock and feeling of horror. "What…?"

"This is Lui's famous loaded cheese fries," Stiles answered.

There had to of been hundreds of fries on that single plate, not to mention the chili, onions, cheese, jalapeños, bacon bits and sour cream that was added in profuse amounts.

"This has to be the unhealthiest meal I have ever seen in my life," Derek said.

"Come on," Stiles gestured to the food, having already taken a huge bite. "Try it."

The werewolf watched his date stuff his face, licking the excess sour cream off his lips. With his index and thumb, Derek gripped the edge of a single fry, pulling it from the mess. He looked at it, then at Stiles, and back at it.

"Eat it," Stiles ordered.

"Man, I wish you were talking about something else," Derek said, giving a teasing look before consuming the fry.

"So?" Stiles asked.

"Oh, it's good," Derek said. "I knew it would be. There's been a reason I've avoided foods like this for so long… they're too good." This time he took a larger piece from the mountain and put it in his mouth.

"I think I must have a fast metabolism or something," Stiles said. "I never avoid food like this." He gulped more down. "I eat whatever, whenever I want."

They ate for a while, making headway on the mound. Stiles licked his lips, feeling the grease settling in his system. He looked at his food covered fingers, licking them clean. He sucked on his index finger, noticing Derek watching him.

"Getting ideas?" he asked, laughing softly. He slowed his sucking down, pulling his finger out leisurely. He moaned softly, " _Hmm_."

Derek's mouth hung open slightly, watching the boy in front of him. He pulled his eyes away quickly. "Remember what I said about you tempting me?"

"Later," Stiles said and Derek looked intrigued. "But we need to go to stop two."

"Stop two?" Derek asked.

"Yeah…" Stiles said. "This," he pointed to the fries. "This was just the appetizer."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"You're being quiet," Stiles observed, after they had gotten back into his jeep and started driving again.

"I'm trying to digest," Derek said.

"Yeah." Stiles smiled. "The plate is made for 4 to 6 people."

"I noticed." Derek shifted in his seat. "Where to next? Another high school hang out spot?"

"No, this'll be quite different," Stiles said.

"Candle lit dinner?' Derek asked. "Picnic under the stars?"

"It's called Green," Stiles said. "Heard of it?"

Derek shook his head.

"It's fairly well known in Beacon Hills, but I figured you were somewhat new to the area so you'd probably never been."

"Your conclusions are correct," Derek said. "So, why Green?"

"Well, it's a cool place," Stiles said. "All of the food they prepare is from local farms. All organic."

"Sounds healthy," Derek said.

"Its über  _healthy_ ," Stiles stressed. "Thought you'd like that."

When they pulled up to their second dining experience of the evening, the restaurant was modest and plain. It was a white building with dark green trimming, matching the same green color in the sign's name. The parking lot looked full, but once the two got inside they were seated immediately.

They were both served water and requested no other drink.

"Have often do you come here?" Derek asked.

"I use to come a lot when I was little, but not so much lately," Stiles said, looking up from his menu. His eyes squinted as he smiled.

"What?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," Stiles laughed. "It's just you seem a little… out of place here."

Derek glanced behind him, noticing how…  _white_ everything was there. White walls, tables, chairs, floor. Even the decorations were light colored. Almost no black was in sight… except for himself.

"You look like a vampire," Stiles joked.

Derek scoffed as if that was ridiculous.

"Cause vampires don't exist… right?" Stiles asked.

Derek's frame stiffened minutely and his eyes connected with the man's in front of him. His green irises quickly flicked away, looking at the people beside them, before scooting his chair in slightly. He leaned in and Stiles followed.

Derek inhaled softly, before hitting Stiles upside the head. " _No_." He leaned back again.

"Hey!" Stiles said, defending himself. "A couple months ago I didn't know werewolves existed… who knows what other supernatural lore is true."

"You might be surprised—" Derek started but was cut off.

"Stiles?" The waitress was studying Stiles. She wore a casual dress with an apron. She had a pen and pad in her hands. "Oh my Lord, it is you. Stiles," she said, walking over.

Stiles stood, embracing the woman as if she were an old friend. "Mrs. Watkins," Stiles said, rubbing the woman's back as he hugged.

"How many years has it been?" she asked.

"Too many," Stiles said, sitting back down.

"How's your father doing?" she asked.

"He's good. Still working for the sheriff's office."

"Good. Good," Mrs. Watkins said, but there was an undercurrent of sadness to her expressions. "And you, sweetie?"

"Never better," Stiles said and Derek knew that was a lie.

The woman's eyes flicked to Derek and he tried to look as innocent as possible. "And this?"

"Is…" Stiles started to say Derek, but thought better of it. He'd have to go with the more general description. "Is my date," he said.

Mrs. Watkins couldn't suppress her initial surprise, but she recovered smoothly. She smiled. "Oh," she gave Derek a better once over. "Scored a hottie." She winked. "You ready to order?" she asked.

After they each gave their orders, Mrs. Watkins slipped away and silence settled for a moment between the two men.

"Who was that?" Derek asked.

"An old family friend," Stiles answered. "But more specifically, she was my mother's best friend."

Derek didn't respond, he merely leaned in a little closer, leaving the opportunity for Stiles to continue if he wished.

"This place was my mom's favorite restaurant," Stiles said, looking around nostalgically. A soft smile formed on his face. "She use to bring my dad and I here all the time, but ever since…" he paused. "I haven't been back." He swallowed hard, bowing his head. "After I lost her, there were parts of my life I could never go back to."

Derek reached out and laid his hand on Stiles'. It was a simple gesture, but Stiles' fingers curled around Derek's.

Stiles closed his eyes. "But I feel like I can't hide from my past forever. It's just a restaurant."

"Its memories," Derek said. "They may not be tangible like this table or those walls, but they are more powerful than you might think. And hard to overcome."

"I don't know," Stiles said. "Maybe it's dumb…"

"It's brave," Derek cut him off. "Revisiting old wounds can be some of the hardest moments you'll ever have to experience."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

With an effort on Stiles' part to lighten the mood, the rest of the dinner went smoothly and once back in the car Derek plopped down into his seat.

"Please say there's no dessert," he said. "I'm  _so_  full."

"Me too," Stiles said.

Derek actually looked like he might be in physical pain from all the food he ate. "You know, I found out tonight that if you can beat me at anything, it's eating. Man, you just never stop."

"It's a talent," Stiles said.

"I think a long nap is the only thing I could possible muster up enough energy for right now," Derek said, inhaling deeply and letting it back out.

In no time, Stiles' jeep was rumbling its way back up Derek's long, private road. Eventually, the old house came into view and Stiles pulled right up to the porch. He left it running as he let his head flop over to look at Derek.

The werewolf was already watching him.

"Are you too tired to…?" he asked.

"No," Derek said, grabbing the boy and easily pulling him over to him. Stiles managed to straddle the werewolf, his knees on the seat at Derek's sides. His hands gripped the sides of Derek's face as he initiated the kiss. He rocked into the kiss, moving his hips slightly. Derek responded by moving his hands down Stiles' back, letting his fingers dig in just slightly.

"Wait," Stiles' pulled back. He turned slightly, pushing a couple buttons on his radio. He turned the volume knob drastically. Suddenly, the same song as earlier was blasting from the speakers.

The lyrics flooded the car.  _Pull me off to darkened corners where all other eyes avoid us, tell me how I mesmerize you. I love you and despise you_.

Derek couldn't help but smile as he went in for another kiss. Stiles obliged, opening his mouth for the older man. Derek's hands were possessive, gripping tightly everywhere he wanted to touch. At one moment, it was his rough fingers, but then they were replaced by sharp claws.

The claws ran their way up Stiles' shirt, so they wouldn't tear through the cloth. And roughly, they made their way back down, scratching along Stiles' back and spine. It wasn't hard enough to break skin, but it was forceful enough to make Stiles dig his own fingers into the back of Derek's neck. Stiles broke the kiss, having to let out a small gasp as the claws traveled lower. Stiles breathing became more labored, quivering slightly as he exhaled.

Finally the claws reached the pant line and Stiles couldn't help but react by rotating his hips forward, once, slowly.

Derek's hands began to move around to the front of Stiles' body and the high school boy jumped at the new sensation of being touched like this. Every part of him was so sensitive.

The song came to an end, which just left heavy breathing to fill the car. Stiles pulled back, closing his eyes. He brought his hands up and scrubbing his face. He shook his head, like he could just shake away the lust.

Derek retracted his claws, slipping back out from under the shirt. "You're okay, right?" Derek asked. "That wasn't too far, was it?"

Stiles forced himself to slide off the man and settle back into his own seat. "It wasn't far enough," Stiles said. "Trust me, I'm fine."

"Okay," Derek said, leaning over and receiving one smaller kiss before exiting the car. "Good night, Stiles."

"Night."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Derek watched as Stiles' jeep began to disappear into the woods surrounding his house. His keen eyes followed the car's every bump and jostle. He watched, getting this strange feeling in his gut. And then his stomach lurched and his breath hitched. He grimaced, feeling the familiar pangs of pain run through his chest as he began to panic. He looked up to the sky. Clouds were beginning to form.

A storm was coming.

 


	7. Practice Makes

Stiles pulled up to his regular parking spot at school, crudely putting the jeep into park and jumping out in nearly one single movement. Slamming the door, he began… not  _actually skipping_ , but ambling along in a fashion that somewhat resembled the notion.

Stiles might be more sporadic with his movements than the average Joe, but never did he ever  _skip_.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, giving him an odd look.

"Oh," Stiles said, noticing Scott for the first time. "Hey."

Scott continued to stare at his friend, an obvious look of confusion on his face. "Where's your book bag?"

Stiles' hand instinctively went to his shoulder, feeling for the strap when he realized he didn't have it. He had left it in his car.

"Right," he replied, giving Scott a hard point with his index finger. "My book bag." He was going to explain himself further, but seeing as to he had no real reason for leaving such a sensible object behind, he spun around and found himself back at his car door.

Scott got there about the same time. With confused look in tow.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" Stiles asked, trying to act nonchalant.

"Something's changed," Scott said, his eyes turning from puzzled to disbelieving. "You had sex," he said suddenly and louder than Stiles would have appreciated.

He looked around frantically, lowering his own voice in example for Scott to freaking lower his! "No," he whispered harshly. "What are you talking about?"

He retrieved his book bag and proceeded to do what he intending on doing before. Go to school.

"You're lying to me," Scott said, a grin growing wider on his face. "You're just…  _too_  happy."

"First off," Stiles said. "I do not lie. I tell partial truths. And secondly, you're wrong. Your assessment of my mood is incorrect. I am simply happy today."

"You're telling me that this sudden high you're experiencing is  _not_  Derek related?" Scott asked, skeptical.

Stiles thought about it for a moment. "Oh my God…" he said, dawning on something he never had before. "I'm…" he paused. " _Acting like_   _you_." The tone of his voice blatantly affirming that acting like Scott was _not_  something to be desired.

And Scott was appropriately offended. "What?"

"Oh…" Stiles' voice changed as he attempted to mimic Scott. "I hung out with Allison last night." He sounded completely dazed and love struck. His eyes were unfocused on something in the distance. "She's so perfect… and funny… and beautiful. If she had the sniffles I would throw my body sheer off a cliff if it meant getting her a tissue. Even if it meant me dying…"

"Okay, I get it," Scott said, still sounding a bit off-put by the taunt but incapable of denying it either. Eventually he just nodded in acceptance. "I love her," he said in explanation.

"I know," Stiles said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "And I accept you as you are. Allison-doting and all."

"And what about you?" Scott asked. "You're so preoccupied by  _someone_ that you left your book bag in your car."

"Can't I just be in a good mood?" Stiles asked.

"You were practically skippi—"

"I was  _not_ ," Stiles said sternly, trying to keep any shred of masculinity he had left.

"Then you were… prancing?"

Stiles groaned, slapping his hand against his forehead. "I was strutting."

Scott thought for moment. "Frolicking."

Okay, so never in his life did Stiles think that skipping would be a step  _up_  on the manliness scale. Man, he needed to reprioritize some things.

And he wasn't even skipping in the first place! And he certainly was  _not_ frolicking. Even though that reminded him of an animal frolicking, which reminded him of little bunny foo foo, which reminded him of Derek, which made him smile, which made…

"You're thinking about Derek, aren't you?" Scott said, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?" Stiles said without thinking. "I mean, no." He shook his head quickly. "I mean… why do you ask?"

"Because you have that look on your face again," Scott answered.

"What look?"

"The same look I get every time I think about Allison."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Stiles had received a second rose (third technically, since he had discarded the first one) at the end of school that day. It was receipted much better this time. Inside the small, elegant note was written six words:

_My house_

_Now_

_A Present Awaits_

Going directly there, Stiles sprinted up to the front door, knocking and yelling simultaneously.

"Derek," he said. He waited a few seconds. "I know you can hear me. Derek!"

Still nothing. It was then that he began to worry. He back stepped off the porch, craning his neck up in attempt to look into some of the broken windows. Nothing but dark, unmoving shapes greeted his eyes.

"Derek?" he called again, but this time much quieter. He glanced back, staring into the vast forest behind him. He took a couple steps into the woods, feeling the natural silence envelope him. He could hear himself breathing.

And then out of the corner of his eye he saw a quick moving figure. Very quick. Inhuman.

It couldn't be Derek.

He moved in the opposite direction only to hear the loud snap of a branch breaking just ahead of him. He searched for his car. It had to be twenty or so yards away. He could make a run for it.

That's usually what he did when his life was threatened.

Run frantically.

He sprinted, running as fast as he could but it still felt horribly slow. He felt and heard something whiz right past his head, hitting hard into an object near by.

And then  _bam_.

He was tackled to the ground, sliding across a sheet of dried leaves. He struggled, trying to land some punches, but nothing hit the mark. They were all blocked and Stiles stopped when he realized who he was hitting.

Who had been  _hunting_  him.

"Derek!" he yelled, freezing up out of a mixture of shock and uncertainty. He glared at the werewolf, who remained annoyingly expressionless. Quickly he regained the cognition to move and roughly shoved the man off him. "What the hell?" He sat up, covered in bits of forest foliage, and grimaced realizing how tender his ribs felt. He'd be bruised.

At Stiles' small pained groan, Derek's eyes softened and he moved as if to look at the injury.

Stiles retracted from him, halting Derek's movements.

"Talk," Stiles demanded.

"I was testing you," Derek said hesitantly.

"For what?"

"I wanted to see how you react to danger. I wanted to watch you when you had to rely only on instinct."

Stiles' jaw clenched as anger overwhelmed him. And then he just punched him. As hard as he could and to the best of his ability, since he still sat on his butt with little to no leverage to pack much heat behind it.

"Holy mother of God!" Stiles screamed, gripping his now possibly broken hand. "Jesus, Christ Lord and Mary and Joseph and everyone else! Shit!"

Derek could've easily dodged the assault, but he took it. He deserved it, he knew.

"Stiles," Derek shifted closer to him. "I couldn't tell you because I needed to see you in a situation where you felt you were in real danger."

Stiles was on his back again, eyes closed. "Haven't you seen me struggle for my life one too many times already?"

"Not when all of my attention was focused on you," Derek said.

"I am  _not_  flattered by this form of affection," Stiles said.

Derek leaned over Stiles, a foot away from his face. "I'm doing this because I want to keep you alive."

Stiles opened his eyes, sensing Derek close to him.

"I want to know your fighting style so I can read you without even having to see you," Derek said.

"I don't have a fighting style," Stiles said.

"I know. I'm going to teach you. So if I can't protect. You can protect yourself."

There was a pause as Stiles tried to digest what Derek was telling him. "I'm still mad at you."

"Good," Derek said. "Use that aggression in our training." He bounced up, and waited for Stiles to follow suit. Albeit slower, Stiles managed the action.

With only a few complaints, Stiles followed Derek deeper into the woods and into a small clearing.

"There it is," Derek said, coming up to a tree that had a knife sticking straight out the side.

Stiles watched him easily pluck the blade from where it was embedded, realizing that the knife was the object that almost sliced through his neck earlier. "That's…"

"Your gift," Derek finished for him.

"Not what I was gonna say," Stiles said. "That's what you almost killed me with a couple minutes ago. My  _present_." He snatched it from Derek's hands. " _Thanks_."

"I threw it behind you and it wasn't even close to actually hitting you," Derek said.

"Felt close."

"I've been in possession of this knife for my entire life. It was my first weapon when I was very young. Now, I want you to have it as your first weapon."

Stiles studied the knife, noticing the beauty that it held. The handle was made from wood and was a deep midnight blue, practically black. It was faintly coarse from use, but still smooth under the touch of Stiles' fingertips. He could feel small grooves from where a design had been carved into it. It was an elegant carving, with many lines and curves, accentuating the arc of the knife.

"Did you carve this?"

"Yes," Derek said. "A long time ago."

The knife was certainly beautiful, but what use was it really against someone like Derek?

"I have a proposition," Derek said.

Uh-oh. The last proposition Derek had had turned Stiles' world upside down.

"You get ten chances to come at me," Derek said. "If you can draw blood even once, you win. If you can't, then I win."

"And what's at stake?" Stiles asked.

"Whoever wins can request anything they want from the other. One request, anything they want," Derek said.

Stiles looked down at the knife in his hand. He gripped it tight, feeling the weight and shape against his palm.

"Deal?" Derek asked.

Ten chances to draw a little bit of blood… he could do that.

"Deal."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

On his first attempt, Stiles was easily defeated within a single second. He lunged quickly, rashly and found himself face first into the nearest tree.

"Don't merely lunge at me wildly. Have control in your attack," Derek said, circling Stiles. "Again."

Stiles pushed off the trunk, using it as a way to gain speed but found himself flying past Derek again and slamming to the ground.

"Don't sacrifice your balance for sheer force," Derek said. "You cannot overcome me with strength. You must resort elsewhere."

Stiles stood, securing a good stance before attacking again. He still missed, but at least this time he kept his feet.

"Better," Derek said. "Now watch  _me_. Your opponent. What are my movements? Read me. Go!"

Stiles tried to observe Derek's actions, trying to predict where he would move next. He chose and was wrong, missing terribly.

"Don't be distracted by my eyes or my arms. Watch my body. Which way my hips are turned. Read the necessary parts to know where I'm moving next."

"You're too fast," Stiles said. He attempted once more before falling back and watching the stalking werewolf.

He watched Derek's feet, approaching slower, more methodically. He waited to attack once he knew which way the man was heading and then time Derek actually had to make an effort to dodge the assault.

He smiled. "Better. You have four more attempts."

The next one almost mirrored the previous attack, close but not close enough.

"Don't always attack my midsection. Attack wherever is most vulnerable at the time."

Stiles went low and then high with his next two attacks, but missed both times.

"Last chance," Stiles said.

"Last chance," Derek confirmed.

Using all of his knowledge he had gained from this crash course in knife wielding, Stiles moved in, striking at Derek once and missing, but spinning around and attacking again, taking him off guard. He aimed directly at his upper back, near his shoulder blades and knew he was millimeters away from hitting skin when Derek was suddenly out of range again.

He missed.

Panting, he shook his head. "You won," he said.

"Harder lessons are learned from failure than from winning," Derek said.

Stiles wanted to roll his eyes, but he restrained himself. "So," he said, his breathing still labored. "What is your request of me?"

Derek walked over, letting his hand innocently brush up Stiles' arm as he leaned in close to Stiles' ear. "For you to come up to my bedroom."

 


	8. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than expected, but here it is!

Once upstairs and inside Derek's bedroom, Stiles had one word to describe it. "It's uh…Decrepit."

It resembled the rest of the house. Broken down and derelict. The bed was king sized and looked fairly clean compared to the surrounding settings. Not much else was in there besides a couple random pieces of ill-matching furniture and some bundles of leaves and twigs that had collected themselves in the corners.

Derek closed what was left of his bedroom door, moving up behind Stiles. "Take your shirt off."

Stiles turned to face him. "What?"

When Derek responded each word came out slow and clear. "Take your shirt off…" He walked his fingers down the fabric of Stiles' cotton t-shirt, toying with the hem when he got there. "Please," he added innocently.

Stiles watched the trek down his front side, with eyebrows raised and mouth agape. "Let me make sure I understand this," Stiles said. "You invite me out here to your humble abode in order to  _one_ , scare the bejesus out of me." Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Stiles firmly continued. " _Two_ , almost decapitate me with my 'gift.' And three, humiliate me with a competition that I'm pretty certain you knew you'd win."

Derek cocked his head to the side, eyes expectant, waiting for Stiles to finish his tirade.

"And now, what?" Stiles said, brushing Derek's hand from his shirt. "You win and I'm just supposed to let you have your way with me?"

"I think that was the arrangement. Whoever won got to request whatever they want."

" _A_  request," Stiles emphasized. "One. And yours was for me to come up to your bedroom, which I have. It's lovely, by the way." Stiles took a couple steps back, going further into the room.

"You're right," Derek said, remaining where he stood. "But believe it or not, 'having my way with you' was not my intent when I invited you up here."

Stiles scoffed. "Oh  _right_. We were just gonna sit here and hang out…  _shirtless_?" With his final word he punctuated his statement with a 'come on,  _really_ ' look. Giving the room a final once over, Stiles plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, finally settling his eyes back on Derek.

Oh at least, to where Derek had been.

He felt a hand slither up under his arm and move over his chest. He involuntarily inhaled sharply, reacting to the unexpected touch. He could feel the heat of a presence behind him. Derek's other hand came up and ran smoothly along the sensitive skin of Stiles' neck. In response, Stiles leaned his head back resting it against Derek. He felt the rough stubble from Derek's cheek brush along the crook of his neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"This feels like you're having your way with me," he said, his voice slightly strained as a shiver ran through him at the feel of Derek's hot breath against his bare skin.

A low laugh grumbled deep within Derek's throat, reminding Stiles faintly of a growl.

Stiles heard a faint sound he couldn't quite place and once he opened his eyes he realized Derek had shifted his claws out. "Oh dear lord," he whispered, feeling the sharp talons against his body once more.

Again, Derek's hands dropped to the bottom of Stiles' shirt. "May I?" he asked.

Stiles swallowed hard. He needed to think of something witty to respond with. A retort that would indicate that he still didn't much appreciate how the events of the evening had played out. " _Yes_." He needed a response that would make him regain some sort (any sort) of control over this situation. He needed… wait? Did he just say yes?

He felt the hem of his shirt being pulled upward.

_F my life and my libido_ , Stiles thought.

A second later, Stiles felt the fabric travel easily over his head, slipping off his arms. It was tossed on to the floor.

"So, wait," Stiles said. "What are your intentions then?"

Derek's hands, claws retracted again, came up to Stiles' shoulders, pushing just rough enough into the tight muscle there.

"Oh," Stiles breathed, pushing back into the touch.

As Derek continued to massage he could feel the tension dying away and Stiles become relaxed against his touch. "Accept this or not, Stiles," he said quietly. "But I wanted to apologize… for earlier. I should've handled training you better."

"You think?" Stiles said.

"It was never my intention to make you feel weak," Derek said. "But I do want to make you stronger. I want to make you a fighter… not a runner."

Stiles remained silent for a moment. "…And that makes you…?" He paused again. "It means that you  _are_ …" he prompted.

Derek smiled, leaning in close to Stiles' ear. "I'm sorry."

Stiles tried to suppress the smile that pushed past his reserve, so he bowed his head in attempt to conceal it.

Derek didn't press the conversation, but instead moved his hands lower, using his thumbs to manipulate the muscles near the shoulder blades and mid-back.

"So…" Stiles began. "Why start training me now? My previous methods have always pulled through."

" _Barely_ ," Derek said, remembering numerous times when Stiles had to be saved by others, including himself. He was tempted to recall each event, but decided against it, seeing as to how he had already made Stiles feel fragile once tonight.

"Is it maybe because  _someone_  is starting to care for somebody else?" Stiles asked. His tone was comical. "Maybe? Just a little bit?"

Derek's mind immediately went back to the other night, when he had panicked. He had sensed something dark approaching. He could still feel its lingering presence and he couldn't ignore it. That's why he wanted to train Stiles. For whatever this thing was and for whenever it decided to show its face.

Stiles needed to be ready.

_I just have this feeling_ , Derek wanted to say, but chose not to. "Possibly," he said instead, and in order to not kill all the humor, he added in a whisper, "But just a little bit."

"Ow," Stiles said suddenly, jerking under Derek's touch. He inhaled through his teeth as he looked down at his left side. A dark bruise was blossoming there from Derek's earlier attack.

Being distracted by his thoughts, Derek's hand had traveled too low and hit the forming contusion on Stiles' side. "I didn't realize I'd hit you so hard."

"Unlike you, I don't heal instantly," he said. "But I'll live. And if you could, in the future, please avoid tackling me from my blindside. Thanks."

Derek leaned in, bearing his teeth for the first time and biting gently into Stiles' neck. "Never again." He moved his hands down to the lowermost part of Stiles' back and began massaging there. He found the two little knobby bones that jutted out there and rubbed hard circles around them.

"Hmm," Stiles hummed. The pressure of Derek's touch was  _low_ , almost past his pant line. The tips of his thumbs would sometimes slip below the fabric of his jeans. His other fingers gripping roughly onto Stiles' hips, placing pressure against the hook of the front of his hips, near the lowermost part of Stiles' abdomen.

And  _damn_ , did Stiles want him to slip his hand into the  _front_  of his pants. Arousal pulsed softly through his thighs, feeling little tingles and twitches just under the skin there.

He had never felt this way before. This is what it felt like to be turned on. Like, utterly and completely turned on.

And suddenly Stiles was very thankful they were on a bed instead of in a parking lot or in his jeep. He turned around to Derek, shaking his head as a grin appeared on his face. "This is so what you wanted to happen," he said, taking Derek's lips with his and pushing Derek onto his back. He pulled away. "Oh, I just wanted to "apologize"…" He air quoted the word and made his eyes big and innocent. Classic puppy-dog look. "And then seduce you with a freakin' amazing massage."

"I really did just want to apologize," Derek claimed, using his elbows to scoot himself further back onto the bed.

Stiles crawled up in unison with him.

"But I'm not complaining." Derek smirked. "I guess I got a little carried away. Sometimes I can't help it around you."

"You're doing it again," Stiles said. "How can I ever be mad at you if that's your justification? That I'm just  _too_  irresistible?"

He didn't wait for a reply. He leaned down, inciting another kiss. This time he was the one to bite, taking Derek's bottom lip.

"If anyone should have their shirt off here, it's you," Stiles said. "And I have a perfect idea." He shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and brought back out the knife he had been given. He unsheathed it, studying its sharp edge. "Yep, this'll do it."

"What are you doing?" Derek asked.

Stiles pointed the knife at Derek's chest, letting the tip caress its way down his abdomen. "I'm showing you how much I appreciate my gift." He slipped it under the cloth, letting the cool steel brush along his stomach and up to his chest. "You don't mind, do you? I mean, you have like a thousand black shirts, right?"

He angled the knife up, the point already sticking through the fabric. With one swift movement he cut the t-shirt in half, leaving only the collar intact. With knife still in hand, he pushed the two halves of the shirt away, revealing Derek's bare skin.

"Jesus, you are so  _ripped_ ," Stiles said, still surprised at how amazing Derek's abs were.

Derek used his claws to slash the collar and with his werewolf, supernatural speed switched his and Stiles' positions, leaving him straddling Stiles. He treated the rest of the shirt like a jacket and slipped it off. He placed both hands on either side of Stiles, bringing his eyes up to meet the human's eyes.

Slowly, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Stiles', not quite a kiss. He licked lightly at Stiles' top lip. Stiles leaned up, but Derek receded.

The werewolf moved down again, using his teeth this time to taunt the lips.

And then Stiles realized what he was doing. He was teasing him. "Kiss me," he said roughly.

Derek smiled in response, seizing Stiles' lips and kissing him properly.

Stiles let his hands wander blindly across Derek's body. He felt hard, strained muscles flexing fluidly every time Derek moved. His favorite part was feeling the man's abs contract and extend with every breath. He moved his fingers lower and lower until they reached Derek's pants.

"Stiles," Derek said, breathy. "There's a line… and if it's crossed, I won't be able to stop."

"Derek, I'm a high school guy. Sex is all I ever think about," Stiles said. "Hell if I'm gonna let you stop."

Derek was no virgin. And in his opinion he had grown to become quite good at his sexual performances. If he had one way to describe his tactics during sex it would be intense. He often times released part of his animalistic nature and usually never held back. It was forceful and passionate… something that he  _knew_  Stiles wasn't ready for yet. And taking someone's virginity when they're not ready could ruin relationships.

"Stiles," Derek said, sitting up.

Stiles plopped his arms to his sides, frustrated. "Fuuuuuu," he breathed out, already knowing what Derek was going to say.

"I think we should go slower," Derek said.

"Plenty of people in my grade have had or are having sex," Stiles argued.

"Plenty of people aren't you," Derek said. "And the people they're having sex with isn't me."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Stiles asked.

"It means that the sex they're having probably sucks and lasts five minutes," Derek said.

"Well, at least something is getting sucked," Stiles said. "And  _still_  what is that supposed to mean? You're so great at sex that… we can't have any of it?"

"I'll I'm saying is that I think we should build up to it," Derek said.

"Haven't we been?" Stiles asked. "Come on, statistically most people my age regret how they lost their virginity."

Derek gave him a puzzled look. "Is that really supposed to convince me to have sex with you?"

How in the freakin' world did Derek Hale get him into this situation? A couple weeks ago, Stiles didn't even look at the werewolf sexually and then Derek ended up randomly pursuing him. And now,  _Stiles_  was the one pleading to speed up the sexy time?

Well, Stiles could play games too and he knew exactly what weapon to use.

Slipping his fingers back into Derek's pants, he pulled down, forcing Derek's hips forward. He shifted his own hips up and… oh  _yes_.

"Stiles," Derek said. His voice was stern.

"Hmm?" Stiles asked, repeated the motion and feeling the same satisfying pressure against himself.

"Stiles," Derek repeated, much less potent this time. He dipped his head.

"Just stop fighting it," Stiles said softly.

If Derek was going to use Stiles' 'irresistibility' against him all the time, it was about time Stiles utilized this natural 'gift.'

It only took one more push from Stiles' hips for Derek to respond and thrust back. The first time he did it, Stiles groaned.

"I'm  _not_  having sex with you, Stiles," Derek said. "But I said we should build up to it, so…"

"Let's start fucking building," Stiles said, kissing Derek again.

Derek moved his hands beneath Stiles, lifting him so that he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed. Derek's hands worked at the button and zipper of Stiles' pants, undoing each. Shifting his claws out, he played right along the length of Stiles' boxers. Delicately he pushed under the elastic band, daring to go a few inches past it.

Stiles broke the kiss momentarily. "I'm assuming you know how to use those things, right?" Despite how much he liked the claws, he didn't know how much he liked them between his legs.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Derek said.

Stiles did trust him. But at the same time, he wanted to go in with two balls and come out the same way.

Derek spread Stiles' legs and got on his own knees in between them. "Relax," he said, placing one of his hands on the side of Stiles' neck, his thumb brushing over Stiles' jaw line. He shifted his other hand back to human form and pushed past the elastic band.

Stiles closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip. His hips involuntarily rolled up, wanting Derek's touch to be firmer against him.

At first, Derek was soft. Ghosting over the sensitive skin of Stiles' penis. But as the seconds turned to minutes, he began to add pressure when it was needed and stroke harder when Stiles bucked up to meet his touch.

Stiles hooked his legs around Derek, gripping the sheets in bundles with his fists. He arched his back, feeling the pressure building and building between his legs. His head pushed harder into the headboard behind him, and he bared his teeth as he rode out the strokes.

The sensation built and built and  _built_  until Stiles shot his hand out, grasping roughly onto Derek's back as he came. The orgasm ripped through his frame, causing an intense shudder to overcome him. He collapsed back against the headboard, eyes still closed.

"That was… You were…" Stiles began. "Why have we not been doing this? Like every night… day… morning. All the time?"

Derek laughed softly. "So, no regrets?"

Stiles looked at him. "Let's do it again."

 


	9. Plethoric

Stiles woke up the next morning in his own bed. As his eyes opened he took in the familiarity of his surroundings, but as his mind awoke he progressively became puzzled. He quickly scanned his room twice, thinking first, ' _Derek_.'

But the werewolf was nowhere in sight. It was moments like this that Stiles wished he had procured some supernatural senses. Maybe then he would be able to tell if Derek had been here and how long ago since he had left.

He must have been here. How else would Stiles have gotten home last night?

_Last night_.

Stiles lifted his comforter and peered under. He was only in boxers. He searched over the edge of his bed and found his neatly folded jeans on the floor. A single rose pedal sitting on top.

Stiles searched his still groggy memory and the last thing he remembered doing last night was argue with Derek:

" _Derek, come on. I'm tired," Stiles had said, unable to keep his eyelids open any longer. He was naked and very warm as he snuggled deeper into the mattress of Derek's bed._

" _Stiles," Derek said, oddly gentle. "You have school in the morning and I'd rather not have your father send out a search party when you don't come home tonight."_

" _Just wanna sleep," Stiles mumbled, blindly reaching his arm out and resting it across Derek's stomach. He patted whatever his hand was touching and continued, "You should sleep too."_

" _Stiles," Derek said, firmer this time._

_Stiles inhaled sharply, giving a real effort to open his eyes. He managed to look at Derek for a steady… three seconds before giving in and closing them again. "Can't drive. Too dangerous. Too sleepy." He gripped Derek's side and scooted his own body closer, against the werewolf._

" _You really—"_

" _Sleepy," Stiles interrupted._

" _Stiles—"_

"— _Is sleepy," Stiles finished for him._

That was the last moment Stiles could remember before waking up in his own bed. Stiffly he got up and went over to his window and looked down into the driveway below. His jeep sat there innocently.

"How?" he said aloud, but then was able to pretty much deduce what had happened last night.

He  _had_  probably fallen asleep at Derek's… for who knows how long, before Derek most likely carried him down to his jeep and drove him and his vehicle back to his house.

How Derek had gotten back to his place was a bit of a mystery, but in most likelihood he just werewolf-ed it back. But Stiles also couldn't help but imagine how Derek had gotten him into his bed… had he snuck through the front door? Had he clambered up the wall and along the roof and gone through his window? All the while with Stiles unconscious in his arms?

Stiles grinned. He'd have to ask Derek about that later.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As he veered his car into his usual spot, his spirits had lifted.

Had lifted exponentially, that is.

Why?

Because he had  _gotten some_. Last night.  _He_  had gotten some. Technically, by Derek's standards, it wasn't actually sex. But it was closest thing to sex he'd ever had.

He bobbed his way up the stairs of the front entrance and almost took out a girl standing mere feet behind the heavy enter door. Oddly enough, though, he didn't notice. Nor did he notice the weird looks coming from Jackson and Lydia as they watched him swagger right on by.

He went up to his locker and began turning the lock.

" _Stiles_ ," Scott said, sounding slightly peeved.

"Hmm?"

"I called out your name like…five times," Scott said.

"Did you?" Stiles asked, trying at his locker but his fingers just slipped swiftly off the handle without the door budging. He paused, narrowed his eyes and tried the lock again.

Scott was looking less irritated and more concerned now. "Stiles?"

Stiles finished his combination for a second time, trying the handle again. Similar results ensued. "Why won't this open?" he asked frustrated.

"Maybe because it's not  _your_  locker?" Scott tried to lower his voice in an effort to not make his best friend look crazy.

All expression was wiped from Stiles' face as he took a step back and examined the row of lockers in front of him. After a moment, he stuck his right foot out and side stepped over a foot… to the locker next to it. " _Right_." He began his work on that lock.

"Dude, are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Stiles answered, trying a little too forcefully at his locker this time and almost smacking himself in the face as it flung open. "Ah, there she is," he said into the open locker.

Scott remained mute, but his expression still pressed his question.

Stiles did a double take toward his friend, finally letting his shoulders sink. "Okay, you wanna know the truth?" Stiles asked.

" _Yes_."

"Derek and I finally—"

" _No_. Whoa, no," Scott said hurriedly, putting his hands up as if to physically block the words from reaching his ears. "Never mind. I don't wanna know."

"We finally had sex," Stiles said loudly. A smile large on his face. "And it was  _awesome_!"

While Stiles finished talking (sorta yelling), Scott began patting down his own body, searching for something. "Do you have a pencil or something sharp?"

"It was…"

"So I can shove it in my ears?" Scott finished, looking around as if he were honestly considering asking a passerby.

" _Scott_ ," Stiles said, not amused. "If I have to listen to all of your sexual innuendos with Allison, then you can bare a few minutes of me… gushing… over Derek. And how we had sex last night."

Scott managed to nod and only slightly grimace at the words 'last night.' "Dude, I was texting you last night… were you two… while I was…?"

Stiles stared at him silently for a few seconds. "Man, the look on your face when you said that. Could you please try and look a little less terrified?"

"Sorry," Scott said, bowing his head a bit. "I'll stop."

"And to answer your question, maybe. I wouldn't know. I didn't read your texts until this morning. And  _technically_ , I didn't have  _sex_  sex."

"Oh?" Scott said. "I wanna know but I don't wanna know details," he then said, more so to himself.

"It was… non-sex," Stiles called it. "It was  _great_  non-sex."

"So, what? You're like a… sorta kinda virgin now?" Scott asked.

Stiles considered the question and was about to answer when he spun around and found Lydia standing in his face.

"Hey," she said brightly. Oddly friendly.

Stiles stumbled verbally for a moment. "Uh… uh. Hey, Lydia." The intonation in his voice rising way too high at the end of her name.

"Stiles," she drawled. "How have you been?"

Stiles mouth was agape as his eyes stayed creepily fixated on Lydia.

Scott watched the display, not quite sure what to do. Or what was even happening for that matter. "When have you ever been interested in how Stiles is doing?"

"Scott," Lydia said, turning her Barbie doll smile on him. "Can you leave us, please? I believe Allison is waiting for you."

Stiles seemed still absorbed in Lydia's presence to speak his mind on the matter.

"Alright," Scott said, hitting Stiles hard once on the back. "See you in class."

Stiles shook his head, blinking a couple quick times. "Right, class. I'm at school," he ended quietly.

After Scott's exit, Lydia took a step closer. Her eyes locking with Stiles'. "So," her voice was so girly. "How have you been doing?" She said each word individually, drawing out the sentence.

Stiles couldn't help but stare at her lips. Very plump. Always perfect and moist looking. "Uh… good?"

"Is that an answer or a question?" Lydia asked, placing his fingers gently against Stiles' forearm.

His eyes dropped to the place of contact and his body visibly stiffened. "Whaaaat is happening?" he asked, looking back up.

In the distance, the sound of tires screeching close by caught the attention of many of the students in the hallway.

But not Stiles. His attention was on Lydia, Lydia  _and_ … Lydia.

"I think we should hang out more," Lydia said.

"We should?"

"Yes," Lydia said as if that were the final decision on the matter.

"Why?" Stiles asked, very confused.

"Let's just say I'm starting to notice you," she said.

The same question popped into Stiles' head. "Why?"

"I don't know, you just seem… different," she said, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "So anyway, what are you doing after school?"

"He's busy," a voice pushed its way firmly and sternly into their conversation.

Stiles did a shocked double take as he realized Derek was standing right next to him. Like…  _right_  next to him. Like all up on him. "Derek," he said, feeling a quick jolt in his chest at the sight of the werewolf. He couldn't help but smile.

Derek's demeanor remained cold. His eyes only briefly grazed over Stiles, before landing firmly back to Lydia.

Lydia cocked her head to the side, the gears churning in her head. She had taken a couple steps back without even realizing it. "Well…" That smile was back. "Maybe another time then," she said, still staring at Derek.

She turned and proceeded down the hallway.

Stiles watched after her. "That was  _weird_." He looked back at Derek and was surprised by how angry he looked. "Whoa," Stiles said, reacting the only way he knew how… with humor. He laughed awkwardly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Derek answered curtly, through closed teeth.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and simply stared for a moment. "I would believe you if I couldn't physically  _kill_  somebody with the wrath in your voice."

The bell to the first class rang loudly. Stiles looked around and realized that they were two of the final people still in the corridor.

"Go to class," Derek said, not any softer in tone. He spun around and was five steps away before Stiles could even open his mouth to respond.

"Wait," Stiles said.

"You'll be late," Derek said.

"I'm  _always_  late," Stiles said, catching up and intercepting Derek. He placed his hand firmly on the werewolf's chest. "Just stop."

Derek did, but he looked none too happy about it.

It reminded Stiles of when they had first met and started interacting. That cold façade. The ever present cruel manner he subjected Stiles to.

Derek was closing off to him.

Why? Why was Derek suddenly acting like this? His mind scurried through reason after reason and once he couldn't figure it out, he did the only logical thing he could think of.

Slowly, he raised the hand that was against Derek's chest and moved it up and around to the back of the werewolf's neck. Staring earnestly into Derek's eyes, he leaned in and gave the man a soft kiss. Nothing intricate, just lips against lips.

Stiles moved his body closer, trying to bring Derek as close to himself as he could.

Finally, Derek's body seemed to relax a little and his hand came up and brushed the side of Stiles' face.

Stiles waited until Derek moved away. He watched the werewolf, trying to read him now. "Are you better now?"

Derek acted as if he didn't really want to look Stiles in the eyes. "Sorry," he said under his breath.

"It's fine," Stiles said. "As long as whatever that was is over."

"It is," Derek said.

"Good," Stiles said, biting his bottom lip. "Now, I don't know about you but can we just slip into the bathroom and take each other's clothes off?"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek said.

"Like right now," Stiles said.

"You have class."

"Trust me. I could  _care less_  about class right now."

"No," Derek said. "You're already late."

" _Fine_ ," Stiles said angrily. "But listen mister, we're going to have to talk about how much non-sex we'll be having."

"Non-sex?" Derek asked.

"I say, a lot," Stiles said. "Like every morning when I wake up. In between every class. We'll have like… what? Six minutes? That's enough time. In my car after school. And then we'll go back to your place and do it again. We'll  _eat_ and then have more non-sex… Oh  _or_  eat  _while_  having non-sex…"

"I'm leaving," Derek said.

"So, I'll see you after this class right?" Stiles yelled after him. "Let's just meet in the bathroom."

"I'm going home," Derek said, without even turning around.

"See? This is exactly why we need to have an agreement on things like this," Stiles said.

"I'm not making a sex contract with you Stiles," Derek said, almost reaching the door.

"Well, I'm not saying anything written in blood… although that wouldn't be such a bad—"

But the door clicking closed was the only answer Stiles received.


	10. Pest

To Stiles' dismay Derek did not show up after his first class. Nor any other class that day. Nor was he waiting at Stiles' jeep after school.

How the hell was Stiles supposed to survive through an entire day of school without seeing Derek? Especially since he was expecting him. The guy was  _the_  master of popping up in places unexpectedly, so why was it when Stiles expected him, he wasn't there?

Technically, they hadn't exactly agreed to meet up, but still. Stiles had suggested it…  _heavily_.

Regardless, school was over now and the evening was open for whatever mischief Stiles wanted to get into to.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to get into.

Two Hours Later

Stiles sat at his desk, flicking a clothespin that he had clipped to his bottom lip. He had been doing this for… oh, about thirty minutes. Waiting and waiting. He had homework to do, but yeah right. There was nothing dire that needed to be researched at the moment and his father was about to leave for his shift. He unpinned the clothespin and studied it a moment before clipping it to the end of his eyebrow… kind of like an eyebrow piercing. But that hurt more than expected and he quickly took it off. He rubbed his eyebrow before picking the clothespin back up. He open and closed it a couple times before it snapped in half, flinging halfway across the room.

Startled, he jumped as the two pieces soared through the air. He sat motionless for a second before finally jumping to his feet.

"Where the  _f_  are you Derek?" he asked to the air. "I'm booooored." He belly flopped onto his bed, letting his face stay buried in his pillow until he just couldn't breath anymore. He rolled over onto his back, sighing heavily.

Soft footsteps were coming down the hallway, and Stiles sat up and listened. A smile grew on his face as he went to his door.

Grabbing the doorknob, he opened the door even before the knock.

"Where have you been?" he asked… Lydia.

Lydia stood in the hallway looking surprised. "I had to stay late at school and then I decided to come over here. Your dad let me in before he left for work."

"Oh," Stiles said. "I was—"

"Expecting someone else?" Lydia asked.

"…Yes."

"What's wrong with your face?"

"Why? What's wrong with my face?" Stiles asked.

"There are red marks." She pointed to specific places on his face.

He paused. "Really?" he said. "I have no idea why."

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," Stiles said immediately, moving aside. He held the doorknob for a significant moment longer, trying to decide whether he should leave the door open or closed. He opted for open. Less threaten-y. Once he turned around he found Lydia perched on the end of his bed. He perfect appearance flawless as ever. She wore high heels and a mini skirt and Stiles couldn't help but allow his eyes to travel up her legs. Lydia was currently on his bed.

Holy hell.

Moving up, he decided to sit next to her, but not right next to her.

He cocked his head too far to the side and asked, "What's up? What is up?" He cleared his throat and thought about crossing his legs, but decided against it halfway through.

"Stop fidgeting," Lydia said.

Stiles stopped moving completely, unsure of how to act exactly. He was always kind of… fidgety.

"I thought we could hang out," Lydia said. "One on one."

"Really?" Stiles said. "Okay."

"I just feel like I haven't really given an effort to get to know you," Lydia said. "And I think that might've been a mistake."

"Why now?"

Lydia shifted, facing Stiles more. "When I saw you today you seemed different. Confident. Like you were very sure of yourself suddenly. I'm not sure why it was today rather than any other day…"

It was Derek. Derek had made Stiles act that way.

"But all I know is that… I liked it."

"Liked it?" Stiles repeated.

"Yes," Lydia said. "And I wanted to pursue it."

"Pursue it?" Stiles repeated again.

Lydia seemed slightly annoyed. "I'm not sure how to preface this, so I'm just going to do it."

"Do i—" Stiles was going to repeat her words again, when instead she leaned in and brushed her lips against Stiles'.

Stiles didn't react at all. He was frozen as she pulled away.

Had Lydia just done what he think Lydia had just done? He remained stunned.

"Hmm," she hummed, thinking the kiss over in her head. "Interesting." She stood and began walking to the door.

"Interesting?" Stiles asked.

"You're going to have to stop repeating me if this is going to work," she said. "And stop acting like the old Stiles. I need the one I saw earlier today." She opened his bedroom door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What?" Stiles said. A minute of pure silence passed. " _What_?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XO

Stiles didn't know why it hadn't dawned on him immediately that Derek probably knew about the kiss with Lydia. The man could sense everything that Stiles did or felt. He was always just…  _there_. And that sense, that comfort, was gone. He knew Derek wasn't watching him, hadn't been for the past day. There had been no sign of Derek last night and none the next morning. After managing half a day of school, Stiles had bailed. All he thought about was Derek. He wanted to evade Scott, because he just didn't want to talk about all of this right now. He didn't even know what the heck was going on his life and he didn't need all of Scott's (loving but freaking annoying) questions. And when it came to how he  _felt_ … he was at a loss. Avoiding Lydia was actually fairly simple. She treated him exactly the same as she did before. Cold and uncaring.

Whatever that meant these days.

After third period, he was out. He had to leave. He left his jeep in the parking lot and just started walking. If he took his car, the parking lot Nazi would stop him and force him back to school. So when the little non-cop drove by in his little golf cart, Stiles ran the other direction, through the lacrosse field and into the woods.

Before he realized what direction he was going, he knew. He was heading to Derek's house. By foot it would take him forever. But right now, he needed time. Time to just think and figure things out.

In what felt like half a day, Stiles broached the line of woods that held Derek's decrepit mansion. From walking, Stiles had figured out that he was fairly out of shape, needed better walking shoes and really, really wanted to see Derek. Every thought, no matter what issue it was he was thinking of, always somehow led to Derek. And so, that is what Stiles had figured out on his walk.

Derek was important. He meant a lot to Stiles.

He came upon the opening in the woods where Derek's house was rooted.

"I know you can sense me… hear me," Stiles said. "You have been sensing me coming for hours now." He walked onto the porch. "Don't make me knock on your—"

Derek's front door flew open and Derek stood there.

"Good," Stiles said. "So you did sense me coming?"

Derek didn't respond.

"Well,  _thanks for the ride_ ," Stiles said.

Derek smirked, but it held no sincerity. "Good ole Stiles. Always the jokester."

"And what about you?" Stiles said, outstretching his hands. "Good ole Derek. Forever the cynic."

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked.

"You didn't come around last night so I knew you were angry," Stiles said.

"So you decided to come all the way here," Derek said. "Well, you should've gotten the idea last night. I don't want to see you." He took a step back as if he were about to shut the door.

Stiles took a sharp step forward and forcibly slammed his hand onto the front door. "You are not going to shut this door in my face. Not after I walked all the way here. Obviously I have something that I need to say. And you're going to hear it."

"What?" Derek asked.

The spotlight was on Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles said, trying to calm himself down. "I know you saw, or sensed, or felt or  _whatever_  what happened between Lydia and me. Just so you know I had no idea she was even coming over, nor did I  _ever_ think she would…"

Derek listened, not easing up in any manner. "It doesn't matter."

"What?" Stiles asked. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter. Obviously it does."

"No, it doesn't," Derek said. "I should've known from the beginning."

"Known what?"

"Should've ruled you out," Derek said.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles asked, frustrated.

" _You_ , Stiles," Derek said, taking a step forward and forcing Stiles to step back. "Stiles… you were a choice. An option. Out of many."

Stiles nodded, realizing Derek's words. "Just an  _option_." He turned his eyes away, feeling irritation rise within him. He angrily placed his hands on his hips and sighed, bringing his eyes back up to Derek.

"Yes," Derek stressed. "I chose you because you were the most sensible. The most logical choice. Not for anything deeper than that. The fact that we… connected for a brief moment was extra. Beneficial but not necessary."

"You chose me because I was practical," Stiles said.

"You knew this," Derek said. "I told you this when we first spoke of our arrangement. You were alone. You were unsought by anyone. You were inexperienced. You were—"

"Pathetic," Stiles finished for him. "Just say it. It's obviously what you think."

"You were easy," Derek said. "Easy to manipulate. Like I had been in my younger years."

Stiles looked up, not being able to look Derek in the eyes anymore. "Huh." He shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest. "So, you've been  _manipulating_  me all this time?"

"It's been simple."

"Must've been," Stiles said with a sour laugh. "Because I had  _no_  idea I was your  _puppet_  this whole time. Your toy to be played with and thrown away when through with."

"The truth is that all I need is your body. Not your mind," Derek said.

Stiles opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried to hold Derek's eyes again but turned away. " _Really_?"

"Technically," Derek said, shrugging slightly, as if he were attempting to apologize for the harsh truth. His voice remained cold as he continued, "In fact, you often times annoyed me and I almost decided that your flamboyant nature wasn't worth the payout."

Stiles turned away completely, looking out at the woods. He bowed his head, closing his eyes.

"And now I have decided that it isn't worth it," Derek finished. "Go home."

Stiles heard the door being closed and before he even thought about it, he turned and punched Derek in the face.

Blood dribbled down Derek's chin as he stood upright again. He moved his jaw tenderly.

Stiles watched him, feeling nothing but rage surging back up. He reared back again and punched Derek a second time.

This time Derek reacted, lunging forward and taking Stiles out. They landed roughly just beyond the porch steps, sliding through the dead leaves. Derek sat up, straddling Stiles. He looked furious. His teeth and nails were out.

"Hit me," Stiles said. " _Kill_  me, if I mean so little to you. If I'm such an annoyance to your life why don't you just kill me now?"

"You're free, Stiles," Derek said, still baring his teeth. "All your life you have sought after Lydia and now you can be with her, so why don't you just  _go_  and be with her?"

Stiles breathed heavily beneath Derek. "So that's it? Go be with Lydia? That's your parting words for me?"

"I have nothing else left to say," Derek said, pulling away and standing up.

"You've said enough," Stiles said, sitting up. "I realize now why I was  _chosen_  and that your first  _option_  has failed. I have no doubt that you have another person lined up to take my place. Someone else to manipulate into your bed."

Derek began walking to his porch. "A replacement will be necessary."

"So that's it?" Stiles asked.

Derek turned once he reached his door. "I'm done with you, Stiles."

Stiles closed his eyes, hearing the door shut firmly closed. He fell onto his back and just stared up at the trees above him. Afternoon was turning to evening and the forest was darkening around him.

He managed to retrieve his phone from his pocket and absently dialed a number he knew by heart. He brought it weakly to his ear. He listened to it ring four times before Scott finally answered.

"Hey, man. What's up? Where were you at school?" Scott asked, sounding concerned.

"Scott," Stiles said, his voice sounded strained and unfamiliar.

"Stiles?" Scott definitely sounded worried now.

"Scott," Stiles said again. "I need help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, but it had to get serious at some point.


	11. Penance

The drive to Stiles' house was deathly quiet. Scott glanced periodically over to his best friend in the passenger seat, not daring to speak for the first half of the trip. Stiles was staring out the window. His eyes looked empty, mere reflections of what was passing them by.

"You know," Scott began, forcing the words into the dredge of the void between them. He laughed softly, awkwardly. And he had no idea why. He was just making this worse. So he continued swiftly, "I could kill him for you… if you want me to." He glanced a couple times quickly over to Stiles. The man remained unresponsive.

Scott sighed, defeated. He went back to driving in silence. He was almost to Stiles' neighborhood when an idea came to him. Instead of turning right onto the street that led to Stiles' house he continued to drive straight. This caught Stiles' attention.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"You're not going home," Scott said. "You're coming to my place. And you're going to tell me everything… because you're freaking me out dude."

Stiles showed no initial reaction to Scott's proposal so Scott continued to drive to his own house. Every minute passed excruciatingly slow until they finally reached Scott's driveway and he pulled a little too quickly into his usual spot.

Scott wasn't use to playing this part… the nurturer. Stiles had never needed it. Stiles, through all of his ridiculousness, had always been strong. Scott tended to be the one who needed advice, who needed the help, who needed the support. Being the one giving support was foreign for him and he wasn't doing too great of a job at it either. So far he had merely accomplished being awkward and oddly bossy.

He rounded his car and went to open Stiles' door for him when he noticed Stiles was already out of the car.  _Right_. Stiles might be hurting but he was still capable of opening his own car door.

So, maybe he shouldn't carry Stiles in bride-like fashion into his house.

He was learning… slowly.

Scott walked about five paces in front of Stiles as they made their way up to his room. Once inside, Scott closed his door and then there was suddenly nothing left for him to do but face Stiles. No more stalling.

"Come on," he said, motioning with his head for Stiles to follow him. He jumped onto his side of the bed and patted the space next to him.

Using the backboard for support, they sat hip to hip on the bed.

"What happened?" Scott asked.

"Lydia kissed me," Stiles began.

" _What_?" Scott said, practically bouncing off the bed from shock. "No way. What?" A smile suddenly broke across his face. "And you're not happy about this?" he asked incredulously. "This is what you've been waiting for… for  _years_."

"I know. It's insane, right?" he asked. "She just came over to my house and kissed me."

"And then what?"

"She left."

"And… you're not happy about this?" Scott slouched. "We're not happy about this," he confirmed from Stiles' obviously miserable demeanor.

"You know," Stiles said. "When she was talking to me she told me that I had seemed different that day. More confident or whatever. And you know what the first thing that popped into my head was?"

"What?"

"Derek." Stiles nodded slowly, simultaneously deep in thought and communicating with Scott. "Derek," he said again and gave a soft, almost bitter, laugh.

Scott wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't expecting Derek's name to pop into this part of the story. How did Derek connect to what happened with Lydia? Or to Stiles' confidence? But just as Scott asked himself, he was beginning to understand. "You know," he said, talking as he was configuring this in his own mind. "Ever since you've been…  _seeing_  Derek, you have seemed a lot happier. Like… I don't know, more complete or something."

"Yeah, well, apparently none of that mattered," Stiles said. "I meant significantly less to Derek than I thought."

"Doubt it," Scott said without really thinking. "I mean, I don't know what happened tonight, but there's no denying it… Derek changed too. I've never seen him so open with anyone. So  _trusting_."

"Well,  _trust_   _me_ , buddy, it wasn't real," Stiles said. "He made that overtly clear tonight." Stiles sat up, frustrated. He rubbed his face into his hands, giving a quick, aggravated groan before standing quickly but not really going anywhere.

"And you know what's really the kicker?" Stiles continued, settling himself at Scott's window where he placed his palms onto the window sill.

"What?"

"I didn't…" Stiles started but stopped.

"…What?" Scott pressed softly.

Stiles caught his eyes. "I didn't kiss her."

Scott stared but didn't quite seem to understand.

"She kissed me, but…  _I_  didn't kiss her."

"Why not?"

Stiles fell silent momentarily. "Because of a certain gloomy, egotistical,  _ass_  that infected my mind with freaking infatuation hormones or… pheromones or whatever shit causes attraction," he said quickly, under his breath.

Scott only caught some of what Stiles had just ranted about and he realized too late that his face held a skeptical look on it. He tried to hide it. He needed to be supportive here… even if he didn't quite understand anything that was being said. Unfortunately Stiles caught the reaction.

"I know," Stiles agreed. "I don't get it either. Trust me. I thought I would be thrilled beyond belief about the whole Lydia thing. But, let me tell you Scott… I have been  _nothing_  but miserable since she kissed me."

"So," Scott began in an attempt to understand everything. "How does all this connect to you lying in Derek's front yard… without your car?"

Stiles bowed his head and quietly kicked the toe of his tennis shoe into the wall a couple times.

Scott waited but knew no answer would come. He could sense the struggle within his best friend not to breakdown. Partially because he wanted to and partly because he felt obligated to, he swung himself off the bed and walked over to Stiles. He gave Stiles' shoulder and hard pat. "Come on," he said, trying to pull Stiles to face him.

"What are…?" Stiles asked, not shifting his weight.

"We're hugging," Scott explained.

"Man," Stiles said, dismissing the gesture.

"No, come on," Scott pressed, not relenting in his efforts to maneuver Stiles to face his direction. "We're hugging it out."

Stiles caved, letting his body be pulled into his friend's embrace. At first he just allowed himself to be hugged, but once Scott didn't let go after a semi-second, Stiles reciprocated, bringing his arms up as well.

"You're so lame," Stiles said with a soft laugh.

"You love this," Scott said.

Stiles smiled genuinely, feeling Scott tighten the hug even more.

"I'm sorry," Scott said softly.

"Yeah," Stiles said, closing his eyes for a moment longer before slowly pulling away. "Thanks, man."

Scott knew that he might not get the bulk of what happened with Derek out of Stiles tonight, so he went a slightly different route and asked instead about the possibility of reconciliation.

"Do you think you can explain to Derek what happened?" he asked. "Maybe he'll understand once he's calmed down."

"I think the last words he said to me were 'I'm done with you Stiles,'" Stiles said. "I tried to explain what happened, but he just sort of attacked me."

" _Attacked_  you?" Scott asked, getting defensive. "Like physically?"

"No, well yes," Stiles said. "But I meant verbally. We did fight though."

"Did he hurt you?" Scott asked, reaching out and trying to search him for any injuries.

"Yes," Stiles said, pulling away from Scott's searching hands. He sat on his side of the bed again. "But believe me, the wounds aren't visible."

"I'm going to kill that bastard," Scott said. "I'm not kidding this time. How in the hell could he attack you?"

"I did punch him," Stiles admitted.

"You did?"

Stiles hesitated. " _Twice_."

Scott thought about it for a minute and then gave his friend a grin. "Good."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Scott found himself outside of Derek's house. It was the morning after he and Stiles had had their bromantic night together. He had left Stiles, still sleeping, in his bed.

It wasn't until Scott had actually found himself standing on Derek's front porch that he recognized the subtle shaking running through his arms was anger. He was furious.

"Go away, Scott," Derek's voice came into Scott's head.

Scott answered by kicking Derek's front door down. It wasn't too difficult. The wooden door was decomposing on its hinges. All it took was one human-powered kick to send the door into pieces. Granted, he _was_  one pissed off human.

Scott stalked through the now empty doorway. His eyes were active, scanning everywhere. He knew where Derek was, but instinct made him cautious none the less. "Come here," Scott said, his tone demanding obedience.

"You do realize that I expected you to come?" Derek said, sauntering into view at the top of the entranceway stairs. "You're here in Stiles' defense."

"That is what friends do for each other, isn't it?" Scott said, his irises following Derek's every movement, every flutter. Derek's heart rate was staying steady. "Protect each other?"

"Oh, that's funny," Derek said, stopping at the top step. "Because history will prove that, when it came to the two of you… Stiles did a lot more of the protecting. He was always the one taking the risks… making the sacrifices. He was a good friend to you, but I wouldn't venture to say the same about you to him."

"That's bullshit," Scott seethed, beginning to shift. His eyes flashed and his claws grew out.

"You take advantage of Stiles whenever you get the chance. He knows all too well that Allison comes first for you. He'll always be second. Despite the fact that he's never hurt you… not once. And always been there for you. Unwavering loyalty. A virtue that not even Allison can promise to you."

"You sure do defend Stiles a lot. Especially for someone who 'is done' with him, to put it in your words," Scott said. "My friendship with Stiles is deeper than you can ever know, or even be capable of knowing. Someone like you, someone who is inept to feelings of affection or love, would never understand that. Stiles has sacrificed for me, no doubt. I think we can both agree that I am not the easiest best friend to have, but in return, I am willing to go to any lengths to protect him. He's paid his dues and I'm starting to pay mine." He began walking up the steps.

"Tell me, Scott," Derek said, standing his ground. "If you could only save one person, who would it be? Allison or Stiles?"

"Are we really playing this game?" Scott asked. "It proves nothing about our friendship to summarize hypothetical situations in which there is no good answer."

"Chances are,' Derek said. "Considering our lives, the hypothetical situations are just as likely to become literal."

"I would save them both," Scott said. "Or die trying."

At this, Derek laughed. "And die you would. All of this naïve, heroic bullshit is cute, but not realistic. But I guess it takes experiencing actual tragedy before you'll realize just how weak you are. How vulnerable and useless you are. One day, Scott, probably not too long from now, you will be placed in a situation where you lose. And in consequence, people will die. People you love."

"No," Scott said. "I'm not you."

Derek growled harshly, baring his fangs.

"I'll protect the people I love," Scott said.

Derek was the first to strike. His heart rate was pulsating with adrenaline as he threw himself down the stairs, tackling Scott to the bottom. Once they landed, they were both semi-changed into their werewolf counterparts. The blow wasn't fatal, or even damaging.

It was meant as a threat.

"Careful, Scott," Derek said, already on his feet and circling the young man on the ground.

Scott got into a crouching position. "You know, I was beginning to become relieved."

"What are you talking about?"

Scott allowed for Derek to circle around his back without keeping an eye on the elder werewolf. It was a sign. A message that said 'I still trust you.' "You and Stiles," Scott said, watching as Derek came back into his view. "Believe what you will, but I do worry about Stiles. All the time. And when you came into the picture, I was… relieved."

"How so?"

"Because I know I am not all powerful, Derek!" Scott said frustrated. "I know I might not be strong enough. I might not be able to protect everyone all the time and when you showed a deeper interest in Stiles, I was happy. It meant I didn't have to worry all the time. Because I knew you were watching out for him. You would make him your first priority. I could  _trust_  you to protect him. For once, I  _knew_  Stiles was protected."

"I will still protect Stiles," Derek said.

"Then why the hell did you push him away?" Scott said, standing and becoming level with Derek once again. "Why the hell did you hurt him?"

"Because, don't you get it, Scott?" Derek asked. "Think about it. Lydia is everything Stiles has ever wanted. She is what he has desired… and what he still does. I would've lost him anyway." He said the words as if they didn't impact him at all.

"Please, God, don't tell me that this whole explosion was over your lack of self-confidence? You didn't just throw a temper tantrum because you  _assumed_  Stiles would pick Lydia."

Derek gave a slight roll of his eyes at the accusation. "He would, if he knew what was good for him."

"He  _wouldn't_ ," Scott said. "And what the fuck do you mean by 'if he knows what's good for him'?"

"What do you mean by he wouldn't?"

"So you obviously didn't even talk to Stiles last night," Scott said. "Because he would've told you that he didn't even kiss Lydia back. And you know why? Because of  _you_. It wasn't even a choice for him. It was already decided. It was  _always_  you."

"What does that even mean?" Derek asked.

"I don't know what it means, Derek," Scott said, taking a strong step forward and corralling Derek into a corner. "You should've asked Stiles."

"Stiles should be smart enough to know that Lydia is the better choice," Derek said. "She's not a hunted werewolf. He would be safer with her than with me. She's in high school, like he is. He could be  _normal_ , if he wished. Which he should."

"Jesus, do you even hear yourself?" Scott asked. "Stiles should be 'smart' enough to know…  _smart enough_? Last time I checked love didn't have anything to do with being smart. Rationality is rarely a virtue of falling in love. That's why it's called falling. It's uncontrollable. Illogical."

"Falling in…" Derek began but his jaw clenched tight. "That doesn't even apply to us."

Scott paused and was about to engage into  _that_  discussion, but decided against it. If Derek didn't see it yet, it shouldn't be Scott to make him see. "Right, whatever," he said. "Last time I checked, Lydia wasn't exactly all together. I would venture to even say, unstable. And come on, Derek. You've seen their interactions, haven't you? Lydia is only interested in the fad of Stiles. He will be important to her, but only briefly, before Jackson comes back into the picture."

Derek didn't speak.

"Does  _any_  of this sound healthy to you?" Scott asked. "Sound normal? Maybe what Stiles needs is not to be normal. He needs  _you_. But you're so damaged that you can't see that, or won't see that. You're so scared that what happened to your family will happen to Stiles."

At the mention of his family, Derek tensed, becoming angry once more. "Shut up about my family. You know nothing about them."

"I know they were all killed because you fell in love with the wrong person. I know you blame yourself for it. I know the only remaining living family member is a grade A psychopath."

"Just shut up, Scott!" Derek said, giving an aggressive snarl, but not attacking.

"And I can guess that this connection you had with Stiles was the first one since Kate and that scares the living hell out of you. It was the best thing to happen to you since everything happened, but you fucked it up. You had Stiles, and then you burned him. Just like your family."

Derek roared, advancing on Scott.

Scott advanced too and when they hit it was hard. They didn't hold back this time. They tumbled their way across the room and out the front door. They swung at each other, hitting flesh with their sharp claws. Scott jumped backwards off the porch and into the front yard. Derek followed like a shadow, just behind Scott.

Scott was quickly realizing how much of a disadvantage he was at. He just wasn't as strong, wasn't as fast. But he fought and got some good hits in too. He was keeping up, just barely, until he lost his footing and fell onto his back, susceptible.

Derek didn't hesitate. He went in for the attack. He raised his clawed hand and was about to strike when everything inside of his body froze instantly. All of a sudden instead of Scott lying on the ground, it was Stiles in front of him.

Stiles looked calm, despite Derek's claws being mere centimeters from striking his face.

Derek immediately drew back, his claws receding. He looked at Stiles and their eyes met. "Stiles," he said without thought and his voice sounded numb. Sad.

"Could you please not kill my best friend?" Stiles asked. His voice, on the other hand, did not hold any sort of remorse. Only contempt. He turned and helped Scott to his feet. Everyone was back to human now.

"Stiles," Derek said and he wasn't even sure why.

"Don't worry, Derek," Stiles cut him off. "I came only to retrieve Scott. I'll get off your property as quickly as possible. And  _trust_   _me_ …" His eyes held Derek's firmly. "I'll never come back."

 


	12. Preservation

~Three months later~

Stiles had moved on. He had decidedly gotten over the final vestige of his attraction toward the werewolf that had ruined his high school dating experience. He never thought about Der— the werewolf at all anymore. And he was better for it.

_This_ , at least, was what he told everyone he knew. How accurate these statements were… well, that didn't really matter, did it? He couldn't be  _that_  guy. The guy that had been used and taken advantage of, but despite all logic or reason was still hankering for the guy who had done the using and abusing. He was not going to be the weird victim of Stockholm syndrome here, even though no kidnapping had technically taken place, but kidnapping of his… his  _emotions_  and his…  _heart_ … certainly had taken place.

And here he goes again! How is it that every thought he has eventually tangents off to how pathetically attached he still is to Der—… to that asshole that has just disappeared from the face of the Earth. Granted, that wasn't exactly fair. Stiles hadn't made any attempts to go see the man, nor had Stiles really put himself in situations to see him either, so Stiles had, in a sense, 'disappeared' just as much as the werewolf had. Disappeared from each other's lives, at least.

And for what? So Stiles and Lydia could be together? Really? Did  _anyone_  think that was actually going to happen? As per usual, Lydia had found Stiles interesting for a mere moment and then had moved on. She did, however, apologize for playing with his feelings, which was more than he could say for some  _other_  people.

He had actually really appreciated Lydia's effort to keep their relationship as it had always been, before she had decided to kiss him. His mind often went back to the conversation they had had that day:

For some reason, Stiles couldn't exactly remember why, but they had been standing in the gym, right next to the pool. It was about an hour after school had let out, so there weren't very many people loitering around. Actually, it was more like just him and Lydia standing there, awkwardly. At least, he had been awkward. She wasn't, as usual.

Her demeanor appeared uncaring, as if she were thinking of what she had to do later that day. "I need to talk to you," her voice echoed softly.

"Yeah, okay," Stiles said, figuring as much, since she had practically led him away from the main populace of the school in order to be in a semi-private area.

"You know, the other day when…" she trailed off, as if she were hesitant to continue.

"When you kissed me?" Stiles said, much more forward than he typically was. Especially with Lydia. He could tell she had noticed as well as the expression had shifted, not so much in her face, but in her eyes.

He had just had the explosive, final blowout with Derek, and he was done being toyed with. He just wanted to cut to the chase and be real for once. He had just felt the ultimate rejection from his first relationship, what was a little more? Why not add on the rejection from the object of his affection for practically his entire life? Why the hell not? He could take it. At least Lydia, for the most part, had been clear with her disinterest in him.

"Yes, that," she said. "I shouldn't have and I'm sorry." No preamble.

Stiles already saw this coming and had already interpreted this through her disregard of his presence the last couple of days. What he didn't know was why she was making such an effort to make sure that he understood the situation and wasn't getting the incorrect ideas about what had happened between them. Why did she suddenly care so much about his feelings?

"Yeah, then why did you do it?" Stiles asked, surprised by the boldness in his words again.

Lydia sighed quickly, looking around the vicinity swiftly before coming back to Stiles and taking a step closer. "Look, Stiles. I  _do_  care about you." Her voice was low but sure of itself. "And that day I had seen something in you… something that reminded me of Jackson. You were someone that was confident. And I got ahead of myself and made a mistake, and I care about you enough to tell you honestly what happened." She stepped back, flipping her hair back over her shoulder from where it had fallen forward.

Stiles nodded, processing, but understanding.

She stood stiffer. "And I'm sorry." Her voice just slightly less confident. She wasn't use to being in this situation, Stiles could tell. He knew enough about her to know that she was not usually the one in a vulnerable situation.

He was, however, more accustomed to it. "I'll still be waiting for you to come around," he said, smiling softly for the first time.

Her lips twitched upwards.

So the world was back to normal again.

Stiles was single and craving Lydia's attention. Lydia was probably going to be with Jackson soon enough. And Derek was off being his brooding, loner self.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Stiles said, not exactly knowing how to end a conversation like this one. Should he walk with her out of the gym, or wait until she leaves so they don't have to deal with the awkward silence of it all? Stiles shifted his feet, staring at them, and running a hand through his hair.

"Stiles," Lydia said, watching him. "I might be out of line, but…" She paused, conjuring up the right words. Slowly, decidedly she continued, "I hope you look confident again one day. It's not something you should let go of easily. If you can fight for it, fight." She turned around right as the last word slipped from her mouth.

Stiles watched after her, slightly taken aback and mostly confused.

And even thinking back on it now, three months later, Stiles still wasn't sure why she had said what she had said. To his knowledge she had known nothing about himself and Der—  _grr_ ,  _him_. Of course, it wasn't completely implausible. He had told Scott and everyone knew that he told everything to Allison and Allison and Lydia were best friends. But still, what she said didn't really apply, right?

What was there to fight for anyway? The relationship between himself and Mr. Gloomy hadn't been real. It was staged, fabricated. Stiles had just gotten caught up in it. Young and naïve, just as he had been accused of being.

It was impossible to fight for something that didn't even really exist.

Lately, as bad backups tend to do to people. Stiles had drastically changed something in his life. No, it wasn't his hair. That's what girls did. He opted for the much healthier, much manlier option – bulking up.

Okay, that wasn't exactly what he had been doing, but he had made it routine to get out a take a jog  _before_  school. His schedule started at 5 a.m. and he typically jogged the mile and a half to the small market that mostly sold produce. He liked to grab a quick piece of fruit before he jogged back home to shower and get ready for class.

This morning, he ran right up to the automatic doors of the market and proceeded directly to the produce, sliding the hood of his hoodie over his head swiftly. He nodded to the cashier, jamming his hands into his front pocket. He moved quickly, not wanting to lose too much of his momentum when he found himself face to face with a wooden crate. Almost slamming into it, Stiles instead hugged it in order to make sure it didn't go crashing to the ground.

"Oh dear!" A woman said, setting the crates down onto the ground. "I'm so sorry, I… Stiles?"

Stiles looked at the woman, recognizing her instantly. "Mrs. Watkins," he said brightly.

"Please, Stiles, call me Marie," she said. "You're up early."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. "I try to run a couple times a week. Usually drop in here." He looked over the crates again. They were filled with lemons, limes, and other assorted fruits. "Picking up some fruit for Green?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Every Tuesday I pick up our order and drive it over to Green."

"Well, let me help you with these," Stiles said, taking the two crates she had set on the floor.

"Oh, thank you," Marie said, grabbing the final two crates and maneuvering them outside and to her truck.

Stiles let the crates fall heavily into the bed, and Marie did the same with hers. She reached inside one of the wooden containers and pulled out a banana, handing it to Stiles.

"Compensation for your time and effort," she explained.

He took the payment, smiling. "No problem."

"Sorry it didn't work out with the hottie," Marie said suddenly, eyeing him slyly from her peripherals.

Stiles' face must have revealed his surprise.

"I know it's none of my business and you probably don't want to talk to an old lady about it," she said. "But you two seemed happy. And were definitely the most attractive couple in this part of town."

"Uh," Stiles stammered. "Thanks…" he smiled at the compliment. "But how did you know it didn't work out?" Surely he would know if his relationship with 'the hottie' had gone viral through Beacon Hills. For one, his dad would most likely know then and would have successfully killed him by now.

"Well," she said, leaning against her truck. "To be honest, it was a bit of an assumption. But ever since he's been coming in alone, I presumed that you two had called it quits."

It's not like he cared or anything, but… "Whoa, wait," he said quickly. "He's been going to Green?"

Marie nodded firmly. "Always by himself. Always orders the same meal. Comes in once or twice a week. I tried to ask him about you once, but he wasn't much of a talker."

"I can imagine," Stiles said a bit sourly.

"He probably wouldn't want me saying this," Marie said. "But my allegiance is to you. I don't know which one of you was the one to 'screw up' but if it was him, it seems like he still cares about you. I mean, I thought he'd eventually stop coming, but," she shook her head, smacking her lips once. "He still does."

Stiles didn't know how to interpret this. Sometimes it seemed like everyone had some kind of input about this situation. It was like all of his friends wanted to demonize the werewolf and make him the overwhelming bad guy, which admittedly he played the part well.

It was like everyone had opinions, and they always wanted to tell them to Stiles, even when Stiles didn't want to hear them or when Stiles had no idea how he felt and didn't want to think about how he felt.

"Just thought you should know," Marie said. "For whatever it's worth."

Stiles nodded, not saying anything, but appreciating the openness with which Marie was treating him.

He hugged her goodbye and thanked her again for the banana. She hopped in her truck and drove off, leaving Stiles to his thoughts.

So… what the hell? What? Was the man reminiscing? Was he stalking someone at Green? Or did he really just love the food there?

Who knew? It's not like Stiles could put the puzzle together since he only had one piece. It wasn't his responsibility to try to figure out the mystery that was the essence of the werewolf.

He looked at his watch. He was late.

So, for now he'd run.

Just run.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOX

The first time he had heard it, he thought it had been a dream. He had woken to the rumbling and immediately groaned, throwing his pillow across the room.

The second time he again convinced himself that it wasn't real, that it was a figment of his imagination. He had been listening to music and had barely heard it above the song. That rumbling. But he grabbed his iPod and turned the volume up as far as it could go.

But this third time, this  _third time_ , Stiles knew it was real. It was late, almost 2 in the morning, and Stiles was awake. He hadn't fallen asleep at all the night. Some nights were plagued with heavy thoughts that Stiles just couldn't seem to overcome and tonight happened to be one of those nights.

And when he heard it, it was so crystal clear. The rumbling… from a Chevy Camaro. He leapt from his bed, without even thinking. He didn't really understand why, but that sound made him so angry. He went to his window, roughly pushing it up and sticking his head out.

There it was. His Camaro, idling safely a couple houses down from his.

Why? Why was he here? Why had he been here the previous nights? Just…  _why_?

And then Stiles started climbing out of his window. The action wasn't exactly thought completely through, but he was nimble enough to make it safely to the ground from his second story window. Or at least he hoped. He had a good stretch of roof to walk along, and it went pretty low to the ground at one point of his house.

And really, this was his only option, because surely the werewolf could sense him coming, and  _surely_  he'd be safely away from Stiles' house by the time Stiles walked downstairs and out the front door.

So, climbing out the window it was.

He maneuvered across the roof well enough, coming to the edge. He heard the Camaro's engine roar as it began to move.

"Oh no you don't," Stiles said, glancing at the car, and then back to the ground. Not too far. Seven, eight feet. He didn't hesitate when he jumped. The landing stung a bit more than he expected, but all in all, he was fine.

Still crouching, Stiles saw the Camaro lunge forward, increasing in speed. Stiles sprang from his position and was in a full sprint and it seemed like him and the car were going to reach the same point at the same time. But he wasn't stopping.

And he didn't know if Derek would either.

He heard the tires screech across the pavement as the car skidded. Stiles slammed his palms against the hood as the car jerked to a full stop. He kept his head bowed, feeling the life of the car under his hands. He peered up, slowly. He couldn't see through the severely tinted window, but he knew he was staring at Derek, and knew Derek was staring back.

"We need to talk," he said.

 


	13. Pressure

Stiles moved around to the driver's side of the car, waiting. Nothing happened. He  _did not_  just go total badass to simply get ignored. And just when he thought he might have to bang heatedly on the driver's side window, it shifted down and a sliver of Derek's face appeared.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, annoyed. Leaning against the curve of the side of the car, Stiles stared resolutely into Derek's eyes.

"Derek," he said, and it was surprisingly painful, but he bit back the sting. "What are you doing here?"

"Go back inside," Derek said, and his voice was unfeeling.

Stiles was accustomed to this side of Derek and the man's cold exterior didn't put him off tonight. His thoughts did not falter on their objective. "Why are you here?" He said the words slowly, determinedly. This time he did not leave any room to suggest that he would accept anything but the answer to his question.

Derek bent his face away so that Stiles could no longer see it. And no answer came. The silence extended for a long time.

"Do  _not_  roll this window up," Stiles warned, getting the nasty feeling that Derek was  _still_  contemplating trying to dodge this encounter. "Because  _this_  is happening." He wagged his index finger rapidly between the two of them and immediately regretted the action. "I mean, this  _conversation_  is happening… between us," he corrected, trying to keep the vigor in his voice. "Because  _we're_ …  _obviously_   _not_  going to happen…" And his voice became softer as he realized he was blathering about an insinuation that Derek probably didn't even realize had happened. So Stiles stopped talking and waited a good ten seconds before he brought his eyes back up to Derek's.

The man inside the car had been watching him. His eyes were not hardened at all when Stiles first caught them, but they quickly shifted back to their usual unpleasant scowl. But Stiles could have sworn he caught sadness there, in that moment when Derek didn't think he was being watched.

"Look," Stiles said, resting his forearms on the top of the car and leaning inwards, closer to the window. "Start giving me answers, or I will start making a scene. And," he drawled out the conjunction. "You wouldn't want my dad waking up and calling in reinforcements, do you?"

"Do you?" Derek shot back. "I would love to see you explain why you're out here talking to a fugitive at 2 in the morning," he stressed. "I think it's best for the both of us, if the sheriff stays out of this."

Stiles hadn't exactly thought that threat through. So? Threats weren't his forte.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "Valid point." And Stiles realized that they had gotten off on another tangent and no freakin' answers had been exposed. "Why are you here?" he said for a third time.

"I was just driving through," Derek said, and he had the gall to appear frustrated by Stiles' nagging.

Stiles laughed bitterly, and loudly. He didn't exactly mean to but it just popped out and in reaction, Derek looked around uneasily. "You know, I might be easily manipulated and naïve," Stiles used the adjectives that Derek had so nicely given him previously. "But I'm not an idiot. So stop treating me like one."

"Shhh," Derek shushed him. "Look,  _fine_ , get in the car."

The doors automatically unlocked and Stiles found himself two full steps away from the camaro. He wanted to talk, yes, but to get inside the car… nope. Huh-uh.

"I think this distance is just fine," Stiles said, motioning widely between them.

"I'm not going to have this conversation out here," Derek said. "So, either get in the car or go back inside."

"I'm  _not_ —" Stiles started but stopped himself when Derek gave him a startled warning glare. Okay, case in point. It looked like this conversation wasn't going to go down without some raised voices. " _Fine_ ," Stiles whispered harshly.

He circled the front of the car and opened the passenger side door. He studied the armrest that held the console on it. He detected the lock and unlock buttons before slipping inside and shutting the door. And right when he did, it seemed drastically quieter around them. It was damn near suffocating. Suddenly, Stiles' confidence wilted and it became even clearer why getting inside the car was a poor decision.

"So…" His voiced expired instantly into the surrounding deadness.

"Your house is in my rounds," Derek answered. "Even in times of anticipated peace… sometimes I check on some people just to make sure everything is still… fine."

"Well, I'm alive. So you don't have to set up camp down the street," Stiles responded.

"It's not like a drive-by shooting, Stiles," Derek said.

"And why were you…  _hiding_  down near my neighbors?" Stiles asked.

"Well," Derek began sourly. "To avoid this.  _Exactly_  this. Look… I thought it might upset you."

Stiles gave off an exaggerated look of surprise. "Why would I be upset? I don't care where you are or what you're doing…"

"Yes, because you're obviously not upset right now," Derek murmured while Stiles continued to rant.

"Or  _who_  you're doing, for that matter either," Stiles finished hotly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest and shifting down further into the seat.

Derek's head snapped quickly to the side, his face turned towards Stiles. "Really? You really want to go  _there_?" Derek said, letting his anger reveal itself for the first time.

"Oh, and look he  _does_  have emotions, everybody," Stiles said like he was making an announcement to an invisible crowd. " _Shocking_."

"What about you?" Derek asked. "Speaking of emotions. Despite your insistence, you're  _clearly_  upset right now."

"I  _don't care_ ," Stiles adamantly claimed yet again.

"Well, good," Derek said. "Because I had to satiate my heat somehow… with  _someone_."

"You don't think I don't already know that, haven't already realized that?" Stiles was yelling at this point, facing Derek and gesturing wildly in an effort to emphasize. " _Trust me_ ," his voice was poisonous. "I can't get the thought  _out_  of my head." He didn't mean to admit that, but this had been torturing him for months. And it just sort of happened, and the fact that it was literally to the worst person possible didn't help the urgently rising feeling of resentment and frustration that Stiles was swiftly being overwhelmed by. He knew Derek needed to seek out another partner to satisfy his heat… the knowledge gnawed aggressively at his brain. And the worst was at night, when it was all he could think about, and the only outlet for him was throwing a pillow across the room or some other futile attempt to silence his ever-present thoughts. He yearned for ignorance in this situation, but he was painfully aware.

He clenched his eyes closed. "Screw this," he said and his hand shot out for the door handle, but his attempt was unsuccessful. The handle merely buckled against the force of the pull from his hand, but the door did not respond. At the exact same moment, maybe an instant earlier, he heard the locks shift down as the doors were locked. Stiles' eyes went to the lock that had disappeared from view, sinking into its own hole, indicating that the door was now secured.

Stiles attempted the button on his side of the car, but he didn't have enough time to unlock the car and get to the handle before Derek had effectively put them back to square one.

" _Stiles_ ," Derek said, gripping both of Stiles' arms with an intense speed. He yanked the boy, not painfully, but roughly toward him. "Stop, for a minute, please."

"Der…" Stiles squirmed at first, but realized suddenly the close proximity of his and Derek's face. "…Rek…" he softly finished the man's name, as his eyes flashed down to the werewolf's lips.

This is how this whole thing had started anyway, right? Like, way back to the beginning. It had begun with a push here, a shove there… being slammed against the wall… being pinned… that moment hanging in the air, between them. There had always been a bit of violence with them.

Derek eyes followed the same action, and he released an unsteady breath.

Abruptly, everything that had been said and everything that still  _needed_  to be said fell away and didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for this overwhelming feeling in Stiles' chest that was so powerful, it hurt.

" _Fuck_  it," Derek breathed, gripping the back of Stiles' head hard and dragging him forward.

Stiles let himself be taken, and when their lips met it was rough and needy. They both inhaled sharply through their noses, letting their hands take the parts that they had been deprived of for months. Forceful fistfuls of clothes were yanked as nails dug into skin, leaving deep red marks in their wake.

Stiles felt Derek's fingers brush up along the back of his neck, his fingernails scratching firmly in the process. He shivered and exhaled into Derek's mouth, the werewolf giving a soft growl in response.

This whole thing was actually a lot like fainting. It starts off with an overpowering and uncontrollable sensation, a draining feeling as the blood rushes from the brain and everything goes black. The eyes lose the ability to see as blackness literally creeps over, even though they are still wide open. With vision gone, the body fights, but its next. Unconsciousness takes over, quicker than one might think, and the body falls. The person isn't even aware that they are falling until the impact. When they  _hit_  the ground.

It takes less than a second for blood to start returning to the brain, and inescapably the person will begin to stir, come back to.

And that's where Stiles' was, waking back up.

He shoved Derek away,  _hard_ , and found himself with his back firmly pressed against the passenger side door. He stayed there, breathing heavily for a moment. "I can't—" he said, his voice breaking. He fumbled ungracefully to unlock his door and had managed to successfully throw it open when he felt tendrils of fingers against his shoulder. He sank his body away from the touch, escaping the grasp. He heard his name be called out, the sound following him as he rounded the car quickly, but he ignored it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough, because Derek easily intercepted his path only a few feet beyond the car. Derek stood firmly between Stiles and his house.

"Stiles,  _stop_!" Derek said, trying again to clutch Stiles and just  _hold him still_.

"Don't," Stiles said, pulling himself free again. "Just, stop grabbing me!" And the echo of his voice vibrated loudly through the silence of the street around them.

Derek retracted his hands, but kept them up, hanging in midair. His eyes shifted up and down the street uneasily, but he remained in Stiles' way. "Fine," he said. "But just talk to me."

And Stiles was officially dumbfounded, he halted his efforts to go inside and stared resolutely at Derek. " _Me_? Talk to  _you_?" he asked incredulously. "I think if someone needs to talk to someone, you're the one that needs to do the talking,  _buddy_." He hit Derek's chest with the back of his hand to punctuate his sentence. He moved past the werewolf, but felt the man follow, less than a step behind him.

"I don't have anything to say," Derek stressed firmly, still managing to keep his voice at a tolerable volume.

Stiles rounded on Derek, causing the man to almost run into him. He came within an inch or so of Derek's face. "Then why are you following me?"

"What do you want me to say?" Derek genuinely asked.

Stiles was tired of this run around. "Derek," he said, forcibly trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes in effort, taking a long, practiced inhale. "If you have nothing you  _want_  to say to me… then…" He opened his eyes for this part. "We're done here." He turned back around, not sure if he was being followed this time.

He reached all the way to his front door before his hand was caught from behind, stopping him from turning the door knob.

"Stiles," Derek whispered, so very close to Stiles' ear.

Despite everything, Stiles still felt the urge to lean back into the body that was mere inches behind him. But he fought it. "What?"

"I wasn't…" Derek began. "Doing rounds tonight."

_No shit_ , Stiles thought. "What were you doing?" He stared unwavering at his front door, waiting.

"I…" Derek started but stopped. "I was…"

"Spit it out, Derek," Stiles snapped, letting his anger get the best of him again.

"I was," Derek repeated quicker. "Here for you," he finished slowly.

_Okay_ …. "And?" Stiles asked.

Derek met him with silence and Stiles started to shake his head minutely as he began to realize how  _incapable_  it was to get Derek to tell the truth, to open up. He faced the werewolf, but kept his hand on the door knob behind him.

"What about last night?" Stiles asked. "And the other nights…? I heard your car then too. This isn't your first time here, is it?" He made it into a question even though it was rhetorical. "And what about Green, huh? You don't think I know about that, do you? But I do. Why do you still go there?"

Derek's eyes widened, as he was obviously surprised at how Stiles could possibly know such information.

Stiles' grip tightened around the door knob. "When you're ready to be honest with me, Derek… You can come find me." He shoved the handle down and the door gave way, with Stiles disappearing into the darkness of the house. Stiles' eyes caught Derek's for a brief second, before the door closed again.

Derek stood, staring at the cold, wooden surface that had replaced Stiles. And he kept standing, and standing, because he knew he had no right to protest.


End file.
